


Something Is The Matter With Spock

by onlymakebelieve



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Bread and Circuses, Children of the Son, Friends to Lovers, I know it seems so sad and hopeless but I promise the end will be amazing and the guys will be happy, Lovers to Bondmates, M/M, Post-Star Trek: Into Darkness, Various dialogue lines from TOS/AOS episodes/movies, spirk, terminal illness, young space husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-28 15:23:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13906857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlymakebelieve/pseuds/onlymakebelieve
Summary: Spock grows increasingly aware that something is going very wrong...The Vulcan first officer had already watched in hopeless anguish as his captain, James Kirk, died in the Enterprise warp core chamber. Now faced with the possibility of his own terminal illness, Spock has two choices. And in his desire to protect his now beloved captain-husband from facing the same horrors he experienced watching Jim die, Spock of course chooses the wrong one.During Jim's desperate journey to find a cure for Spock, he makes some amazing discoveries that will change his perspective regarding his own life so far. It all began because of Spock, but it ends up being about Jim, too.I’ve followed only the basic premise of ST:TOS episode, “Bread and Circuses,” and brought it into the AOS Spirk world.





	1. How Do I Love Thee?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosemanon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosemanon/gifts).



> Gifted to rosemanon, as my very first reader to leave kudos by name. Thank you for your kindness and support.

Something...something was off with Spock.

Not just at his station as my first officer, but as my husband. I couldn’t specifically put my finger on it. Just…something was wrong. Definitely.

I doubt anyone else noticed. No one ever said anything or gave me those questioning glances. But then, my crew was used to the secrets Spock and I shared, hovering between us like a rainbow. There was so much no one else could ever imagine, like how absolutely incredibly beautiful Spock looked as we made love, Spock tenderly crying out my name. Ok, so maybe sometimes it was a little more like screaming, but since Spock claimed that Vulcans neither scream nor lie (plus I'd just sound like I was bragging), I generally deferred and left out that part. 

No one knew the authentic Human smiles Spock saved only for me.

Me? Captain James T. Kirk? Nobody would bat an eye if I ran down the corridors drunk as a loon, shooting antique pistols at the overhead, wearing nothing but a drooling, nystagmus smile (not that I’ve ever done that, honest—just a note to any admirals who might have overheard those ridiculous rumors. And it’s not like the pistols were actually _loaded,_ anyway).

Sure, anyone who worked with us for very long couldn’t miss my stolen, smoldering glances toward my first officer husband on the bridge. Most likely, the crew just accepted the ying and yang of our personal and professional relationship as integral to the command team they depended on for their very lives.

In the beginning, I never imagined possible such a strong and glowing tether of love could flow between two beings, but it had been that way for Spock and me even before that day on New Vulcan when we were bonded forever.

But now…something wasn’t right. The change occurred so gradually I missed it, until it blew up in my face.  Even then, I wasn’t sure exactly when it started—not from Spock’s outward body language nor from the restrained energy flow between us.

Sometimes I could almost grasp Spock’s fleeting self-concern, before it drifted away like a warm breath on an icy Iowa morning.

But if it concerned Spock, it concerned me, and I meant to get to the bottom of it before the problem grew larger.

“Spock…Spock,” I whispered toward his ear. We had just shared an evening of the most mind-blowing sex, and though we were both still floating, blissed and exhausted, I couldn’t sleep. I was just kind of hoping maybe Spock couldn’t sleep either, so I quietly checked if he were still awake.

I would find out much later that Spock actually had been awake but merely chose to feign sleep because he wasn’t ready to have _that_ discussion with me. The one during which Spock would finally tell me what was wrong.

Because Spock knew once he revealed it to me, that would make it real. The fact was Spock knew very well something was wrong—something he perceived would soon jeopardize his very life.

* * * * * * * * *

I was shielding my concerns from Jim. There was no need to worry my ashayam needlessly before a diagnosis was confirmed.  And I did not want Jim to know of the various troubling thoughts that had started weighing on my mind these days. Thoughts about the validity and depth of our relationship. If he would have picked up those impressions from my thoughts, Jim most likely would have felt the need to defend himself and us, and I did not want to put my husband “on the spot,” as Humans say.

Dark, uninvited thoughts such as, were something to change my ability to participate in a sexual relationship with my husband, would that destroy the love Jim now felt for me, and thus our marriage? Would he move on to someone else who could share that part of life with him if I no longer could? Or much worse and completely unacceptable, would Jim choose to stay with me out of pity or a sense of duty?

Humans terminated their unions often and for many reasons, and as I researched aspects of Terran marriage, I could not convince myself with certainty that divorce would be impossible within my relationship with my beloved. Jim's reputation as being extremely sexually active when he was younger had been wildly exaggerated, as Human notoriety often is, but certainly our intimacies had always been both vigorous and copious. I considered my husband's past irrelevant after we together chose bonding and marriage.

Our sexual joinings had been most satisfactory from the beginning. In spite of my limited previous experience, Jim was a very patient and attentive lover. Through our bond, I learned early on that his greatest need within our relationship was simply to satisfy and exceed those of my own. I was not surprised—even Jim’s command style was personable and warm, centered around meeting his crew members’ needs: keeping them safe and alive and fulfilled, providing them with many stimulating and challenging opportunities as we explored the mysteries of the universe.

I loved James T. Kirk.

I loved him “to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach,” to quote one of Jim’s favorite Earth poets. I had previously not even been aware I had the capability to love so deeply. My captain need not have been concerned regarding my personal desires. Jim's very presence, his essence, his every breath now after having been robbed of this basic requirement of life when he died to save his crew, met my needs. My longings were fulfilled by the nearness of his being, my thoughts joining his as they sparked among the fireworks of his brilliant and beautiful mind, and his within my own—a tangled forest of lush vines, intertwined and glowing, dancing with vibrancy amidst the ordered precision of my Vulcan meditations.

And yet, the memory of Jim's very first kiss was seared upon my lips forever. We had just escaped from a potentially deadly firefight on Calmus Beta, with Jim, Lieutenant Sulu and two security officers crouched behind one rock outcropping to the north, and I with Mr. Scott and three others from the security team to the east. We were battered and injured to varying degrees, and at one point we were in serious jeopardy of losing our lives.

As occurred with uncanny frequency, it was because of ion storms that the Enterprise had been unable to transport us to the planet's surface as Federation representatives for a peace summit, so we had arrived by shuttle. But we were now 1.2 very exposed kilometers from the Copernicus. Then the captain devised a brilliant strategy, enabling his team to ambush the multi-limbed lifeforms and stun them into unconsciousness, permitting us to hobble back to the safety of the shuttle. As Jim stood guard at the hatch with me at his side while the remaining team members limped or were carried up into the craft, Jim turned and looked me square in the eye as he calls it, reached up and joined our mouths in a very quick, short, hard kiss. To say I was caught off guard would be inadequate, but there was no time to contemplate the meaning further than Jim’s obvious relief that his strategy had paid off and saved us all from certain death. We launched to safety as soon as the hatch was secured behind us.

After all members of the landing party were treated and released from medbay and multiple political apologies were received from the planet's leading government officials, Jim invited me to his quarters for an evening chess match. As we played, it became obvious his mind was not in the game. He was making uncalculated, even frivolous moves, which was unusual for the captain. His usual strategy of planned chaos was nothing like this careless, unfocused play.

I too, however, found myself somewhat distracted throughout the game as my mouth still burned with the memory of Jim’s lips—an act he had not mentioned since. It was as though it never occurred.

Finally, I asked Jim why he was so inattentive, as I called check and warned him checkmate was inevitable within two moves.

“You’re right, Mr. Spock. I do have other things on my mind tonight.” Jim reached over to his king and laid it down. “I resign to your superior tactics.” And with that, Jim stood and stretched, obviously not wishing for a rematch. By his actions, I believed he was dismissing me and our evening had drawn to a close, so I rose to leave.

“Oh, Mr. Spock, I think I need some of that herbal tea you like so much before I turn in for the night. Would you care for some? If you’re up for it, join me over at the bar.” Jim knew I had not been as affected physically by our strenuous plight on the planet earlier. I moved without expression toward a stool near the replicator and took a seat, watching Jim secure our drinks.

The captain’s quarters were neither overly large nor luxurious, but they, along with those of other senior officers, were designed with both a small dining area and a less formal bar area for socializing.  

Jim handed me a steaming cup and came around to sit on the stool beside me, as he quietly sipped from his own. “Not as good as home brewed, but much quicker.”

“It is quite satisfactory, Captain. Thank you.”

Jim went quiet again, his expression and body language indicating deep thought, when he finally put down his cup and turned on his stool to face me.

“Mr. Spock, I’d like to confess something to you. I’ve been thinking about telling you this for some time now, but I never had the nerve to bring it up. I probably shouldn’t even now, but in light of yet another near-death experience today, I’ve decided it really _is_ important enough to take a chance.”

“Take a chance, Captain? Please be assured you may always tell me anything.” I had, over the span of Jim's service, learned to curtail my inquietude at his tendency to overshare at times; instead, I now embraced his vibrancy as most endearing.

“I’m glad you feel that way, Spock, because this one is quite embarrassing. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but that most likely will be the result of what I’m about to share with you.”

“In that case, now that you have forewarned me, I will be prepared to expect...the unexpected.”

“Good…good. I’m going to tell you something, and then I'm going to ask you something. If you judge it offensive, Spock, feel free to just walk out. I’ll understand and never mention it again, on my word as an officer and...well, as much of a gentleman as I _can_ be.”

“Yes, Captain.” I answered formally, though Jim was wearing what I thought of as his mischievous smile.

“Jim, Spock. Call me Jim.” He reached and took another sip from his cup and set it back down, licking his lips as he returned his attention to me. Licking those full, pink, intriguing lips that mere hours ago had emblazoned my own.... I snapped my attention back to the captain's words as I felt color rising in my face at this lapse of propriety in my thoughts.

“Yes, Captain. Jim.”

“You know, Humans can be a somewhat needy species. Our reactions to different stimuli are pretty basic. Some of us respond to daily stress by preferring to spend time alone, but many of us like me prefer to share our experiences with someone we care about. A friend or with a family member. Our basic physiology often plays into it, too.

“I seem to recall that Vulcans have a seven-year mating cycle, at the end of which you have strong physical, sexual needs. Is that right, Mr. Spock? And please, just think of this as a scientific discussion so far. Merely confirming biological data.”

“I was unaware you knew about Pon Farr, Captain. It is not generally spoken of among Vulcans, much less with outworlders. But yes, Vulcans experience something I can best explain as 'being in heat' would mean on Earth.”

“Well, in Human physiology, we, or at least I, become somewhat aroused about every two to three days—sometimes more often, sometimes less. When there’s tension and I’m in crisis, that cycle is interrupted as I necessarily focus all my attention on our missions. But when the crisis is resolved or the tension or stress is over, the release of those nerves tends to push me toward the need to…deal with myself physically. Do…do you know what I’m talking about, Spock?”

“Jim.” The previously hesitant captain apparently determined to set aside all personal limitations. As he predicted accurately—I was, indeed, somewhat uncomfortable meeting Jim's eyes as he spoke so openly of his own deeply private physical matters. I had my own very private physical reasons.

“Spock, over the years there have been women I’ve been with for fun or sexual release. A few I’ve actually cared more deeply about and carried on an extended relationship over a few weeks or months, though never for much longer. But…for me, Human physical need for release being much more relentless and frequent than that, I tend to just take care of that need myself.”

“I…understand, Captain. I shall leave you to it then, being our crisis is over and it is Enterprise nighttime.”

“Spock…no. No. I…I have a point I’m trying to make here—something I want to ask you.

“As a Vulcan, do you do that? Do you also have…physiological needs like daily or weekly, something more often than just every seven years? Do you…self gratify?” The usually confident and plain-spoken captain now bloomed with a deep pink blush spreading from his forehead down his chest as far as was visible. It was...tantalizing.

“Captain, Vulcans generally control such urges through meditation and an ordered mind. We practice this ritual daily and keep our bodies under submission to aid us in being more productive in society and our personal lives.”

“So you’re saying you never jack off—right, Mr. Spock? Never?”

“Captain.” I now also felt heat spreading over my entire body. I had never been asked such a brazen question nor held such an intensely personal discussion with anyone, not even Nyota when we were dating, and especially not with a commanding officer. “I fail to see the pertinence of your question. I…I find myself at a loss.”

Undaunted, taking a deep breath as if to garner courage for further explanation, Jim continued, “Humans tend to think about…certain things while they take themselves in hand. This is…somewhat difficult for me to say to you, but it’s been true now for literally years.

“Spock…when I jerk off…I think about you.”

“Captain?" My jaw dropped in shock. Not because of _what_ he said so much as the fact he said it out loud...to me. "Please, Captain, I—”

“I think of your body…how beautiful you are. How much I’d love to reach under your uniform and feel your muscles tense and ripple as I stroke my fingers up and down your back. To drop to my knees and rip open your trousers so I can mouth your cock through your briefs.” I found Jim's boldness fascinating—how his eyes never once hid from looking in mine while revealing his intimate fantasy.

My heart rate had risen by a factor of .47. My breathing became labored and ragged as I watched Jim’s eyes dilate and become almost solid black with his sexual arousal. I did not understand where this was coming from. We were merely sitting at his bar drinking a hot beverage.

I was then further embarrassed when I simply could not prevent my own eyes from roaming down Jim's body—where I could easily see his bulging outline. Displeased by my lack of decorum, I jerked my eyes back up to his face to see his lips slowly pull back into that smile he often gave me on the bridge as I reported from my station.

“Captain—”

“Jim, Spock! Jim.” He bent forward as if to share a secret with me, though I could well imagine that every word he spoke now was surreptitious.

“Spock, I…it’s one of my favorite fantasies to imagine it’s your throbbing cock I’m pumping instead of my own. I imagine your tight skin's verdant tinge and double ridges…hard as jade and growing wetter.”

“Captain!” I tried to exclaim, but it came out broken, as I found myself in this very moment becoming 'hard as jade and growing wetter,' as Jim described. “I am not certain…”

“And I always imagine your chest heaving, much as it is right now, as I build the intensity of my strokes, bringing you closer and closer—”

“Jim, stop! Wait. Please, just…you must wait a moment.”

I had to squeeze my eyes and fists in attempt to get my body back under submission. My own erection had so quickly filled at Jim’s words, watching the dark lust in his eyes, that I was indeed on the verge of ejaculation, practically trembling with arousal. This was nothing I could have prepared mentally to hear from anyone in my entire lifetime, much less from the man with whom I had secretly fallen in love. I found myself helpless preventing my imagination from seeing Jim’s hand stroking me exactly as he described it. Exactly as I had imagined dozens of times before in my own privacy.

I could not have predicted the possibility of this discussion being what distracted him all evening. I was lightheaded, dizzy, the front of my uniform straining against my erection, already pressed against an expanding sticky warmth. I knew if I did not calm my body, I had only 7.85 seconds before I would be uncontrollably ejaculating into my clothing.

“Spock, do…you…ever…jack yourself off?”

Against all I knew of diplomacy and guarding one's innermost thoughts from others, I merely kept my eyes closed...and shook my head yes.

“Good. That’s good to know. When you do touch yourself, what do _you_ think about?”

“Captain…Jim.” I finally opened my eyes, lifting them to meet his again. ”I am not certain what is prudent to answer.” My breathing was so ragged now I could barely speak.

“Just answer me truthfully, Spock. Do you ever think of _me_ …that way?”

I turned my body away, back toward the bar. To answer him truthfully would be to reveal everything. My love for him. My need, my unbridled desire. The emotions I had fought a lifetime to suppress now threatened to emerge unrestrained, and I feared if I disclosed even a small amount of the truth, my fervor would erupt all over this Human. I…could not let go. I could not answer.

“You do, don’t you, Spock? You do fantasize about me too, don’t you?”

I stared at him, bewildered and frankly, amazed.

“I want you, you know," Jim would not cease explaining, as though he did not have the ability to stop. "More than a fantasy. I ache for you in real life, Spock. I want so much to actually touch you—to get to know you with my eyes...my senses. Feel you against me. Inside me....me inside you. Do you know what I'm saying, Spock?"

"You love...me?" I barely recognized my own voice, labored and husky with deep affection...and lust. "As I...”

Jim interrupted, jumping up from his stool and squeezing his hands on my biceps, lifting me to stand. He crushed his hardness up against me and reached forward, engaging our lips in the warmest, hungriest kiss I had ever experienced. His arms enveloped me, while his hands went to work pressing hard designs on my back through my shirt.

That had been an astonishing night, the way we ended up making love for hours, lost in each other, as I was finally freed to explore and worship Jim's body in all the ways about which I had desired. Sometime during that night in Jim’s arms, I realized what we were sharing was not enough—it could never be enough. And since that evening, we had spent every sleep period together when not on duty.

Now, as I contemplated the possibility of a very premature and painful end to life, I pondered my intense relationship with Jim, which might be cut short long before the “happily ever after” of Terran fairy tales. Even if by some miracle I did not succumb to death, which of certainty I did not believe in supernatural phenomena, I might become debilitated and thus a detriment to Jim’s life here on board the Enterprise and his station as her captain. 

I knew Jim loved me—loved me as he had no other—deeper, richer. And through our bond I felt Jim’s happiness and contentment as our relationship had grown. His fulfillment within our marriage had actually improved his command efficiency by a factor of 8.3 percent. A happy, fulfilled captain was a more focused captain, and the universe seemed to smile on the Enterprise and her crew because of it. Our missions were more successful, our first contacts smoother and more beneficial as interplanetary relationships were built.

Jim was a charmer, and his eyes and smile were difficult for any race of being to resist.

But now I wondered. Were I soon to become physically impaired, would it not be better for Jim if I were to let him go? Perhaps pick some irreconcilable argument that resulted in Jim’s decision to break up with me so that I could easily transfer off the Enterprise and then find somewhere secluded to spend my final days without Jim ever knowing of my suffering and death. I could shield my thoughts and physical state from him during those final days, enough that Jim would never even be aware when a Vulcan healer dissolved our bond, thus preventing Jim any discomfort at the conclusion of my life.

After all, both Jim and I had already been through the experience of my death when my elder self Selek died. That was difficult enough for both of us. Selek had died of natural causes of advanced age, and here I was dying of illness at a vastly premature age.

And yet Selek’s Jim had suffered through Selek’s first death decades ago at the hand of Khan’s treachery in their universe. And as our own Dr. McCoy had used every ounce of his know-how and research to find a way to bring our own Jim back, so had Selek’s Jim sacrificed his ship and his commission long ago to bring Selek back to life, with their own Dr. McCoy holding Selek’s katra to join with his new body, recreated on the Genesis planet.

My elder self had been adamant that he would not reveal events of his timeline on the Enterprise, to assure nothing he said or did now would further affect or influence our lives' natural progression. But he had finally been willing to reveal his personal experience with Khan, so I would be better equipped to defeat Khan after he attacked Starfleet. When I nonetheless had to inform Selek of my Captain Kirk's death in the battle to save the ship and crew, the heavy tears in Selek's eyes led me to insist he explain why he was so emotionally affected.

It was all infinitely complicated and intertwined, how our "alternate" lives had suffered the same kinds of obstacles we suffered here in our timeline. The same…yet completely different.

And now, the possible approach of my own untimely death from a disease that never touched Selek during his entire life.

Of one thing I was certain. My Jim had suffered enough, not just his own death because of Khan's destruction, but by my own hand at the beginning of our acquaintance. I insisted on leaving this life causing Jim Kirk not one more moment's pain.

I devised a plan. The Enterprise was due soon for a brief stopover at Rigel V to drop off supplies and allow the crew a brief shoreleave. When we arrived, I would request a short visit planetside, during which I would check into a medical facility under the cloak of privacy and secrecy, where crucial tests to confirm or refute the existence of a terminal illness would be run.

And then if it were confirmed, I would proceed to slowly change the way I interacted with Jim until it reached the boiling point and Jim no longer wished to be married—where my mate would no longer be in love with me.

That way, my transfer request would be above suspicion, and Jim would neither seek further contact nor have reason to track my relocation. He would be prevented from experiencing the torment of my death.

This was imperative, having direct knowledge of the excruciating pain experienced while watching in horror as Jim died before me.

2.3 pain-filled months later, the Enterprise entered orbit around Rigel V. I was not needed on board during our time there, so I requested to beam down to R-5-14 station. I had already made an appointment to meet with a local Vulcan healer who would be familiar with our native illnesses and symptoms.

As I had predicted, the healer confirmed my deepest concerns. I was, indeed, diagnosed with Verilinia, a Vulcan genetic disease which often skipped multiple generations and then suddenly appeared at the young adult stage. Verilinia was a turbulent and thus far incurable disease, quick to spread throughout the body, quick to claim its victims.

Surprisingly though, I was given a prognosis of only 3.7 weeks to live, during most of which I would need powerful painkillers to counteract the disease’s most prevalent symptom—suffering to death as the body’s organs were attacked and dissolved.

Having overestimated the length of life I had remaining, I realized there would be little time to convincingly carry out my charade to kill Jim’s love for me. Therefore I must come up with a more accelerated, progressive plan to end his regard and implement it quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All chapter titles from Elizabeth Barrett Browning's "Sonnet 43: How Do I Love Thee"
> 
> I very much hope none of you have experienced this type of disease with a loved one. Unfortunately, I know through experience watching someone suffer every day of his short life, living on strong painkillers until such time the painkiller had to be so strong it ultimately killed him before his terminal illness did. The disease was one which only about 40 people on Earth reportedly have at this time, so little research money is granted for its study. I'm glad the disease is so rare, but...our loved one's life and death touched literally thousands of others and he will never be forgotten. In honor of him as the impetus for this fic, I use a similar premise.


	2. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs

In our quarters the night after Spock returned from his visit down to Rigel V, my Vulcan husband was acting more strangely than ever—nothing like I had ever witnessed in all the years I'd known him. And so far, he'd managed to change the subject every time I asked him what exactly he was up to while there.

“Jim,” Spock climbed into bed beside me, where I was finishing a communique to Commodore Paris on my PADD. “I noticed today that you were falling behind on your reports. I will help you catch up.”

“Thanks Babe, that’s really sweet of you. But I’m not that far behind and I don’t want to dump that on you. Anyway, I already have plans for you, Mister. I’d much rather spend my evening catching up on  _you_. I missed you while you were gone. Did you have a nice time visiting science exhibits or whatever?” I smiled and waggled my brows, looking forward to this uninterrupted night of making love with my handsome bondmate.

“Actually, Captain, I have become aware that numerous reports of late have been bereft of certain details relative to our more critical missions. In my reports, I am always careful to be thorough. I thought perhaps it might be advantageous if I take over some of yours so Starfleet will not notice you have—“

“I have  _what_ , Mr. Spock?”

“You have, within recent months, become more…lax in your representation of the facts. I would not want the admiralty to catch you in a fabrication.”

“Spock! I have not fabricated anything in my reports. In fact, I’ve striven to write with much more accurate detail through the years since the incident at Nibiru.”

“Sir, I think you might find it useful—even wise—to revisit some of your most recent submissions and perhaps revise various elements.”

“Sir? Captain? What is this, Spock? I’ve never heard you talk like this before, not in our bed. Why is now the first I’ve heard of this concern of yours?”

“Because, Jim, I had hoped you yourself would recognize your deficiencies and make corrections. But your inaccuracies are becoming more flagrant and numerous. I find myself at a loss to explain this. I had believed you were committed to meet or exceed the responsibilities of your rank, as opposed to when you first became a captain.”

“Well, Mr. Spock, I’ll have you know I read through my reports a minimum of three times before I submit them, just to prevent the situation you’re talking about. I have come across no inaccuracies nor any level of unprofessionalism in my accounts. If you have, I would very much appreciate you pointing those out to me so I can address any concerns you might have.”

“Jim, it is a constant undercurrent of disinterest or perhaps disrespect for your station…skimming over details that should be more thoroughly addressed.”

“So you’re saying you can’t go through them and point out where you believe I’ve made errors so I can correct them?” I was beginning to grow angry at Spock—perhaps angrier than I had ever been before during our relationship.

“Of course, Jim, I could do that. But there are quite a few and that would unnecessarily delay meeting my own responsibilities in the science lab. Perhaps we might forego our usual intimate activities tonight so you would have opportunity for further review.”

“I believe foregoing our usual evening activities is a very good idea tonight, Mr. Spock,” I snapped, “whether I revisit my reports or not. Actually, I believe I’ll take a walk to medbay and visit Bones for awhile. Don’t wait up.”

“I will be meditating in my old quarters for several hours tonight. In fact, I was considering staying in my former cabin for the next few days to prevent distracting you from revisiting your logs.”

“How thoughtful of you," I answered sarcastically. "Very well, I guess I will see you on the bridge tomorrow.”

“Yes, Captain. Good night.” Spock had already started climbing out of bed without even looking at me or reaching to share our customary goodnight kiss before starting toward the bathroom between our cabin and his former room.

“Good night,” I called to his back.

I had no idea what was going on with Spock but I sure as hell was going to get to the bottom of it, and medbay was as good a place to start as any. I barely refrained from running.

“Bones!” I called out as the door to medbay emergency swished open.

“Captain," Dr. McCoy scolded. "If you don't mind waiting outside, I’m up to my elbows in Ensign Harriman’s injuries here. It shouldn’t take me longer than 20 minutes.”

“Oh, sorry, Doctor. I didn’t realize you were with a patient.”

“Yes, Captain, I’m a doctor. That’s what I do in here. Treat patients.” McCoy rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Ensign Harriman’s burns.

I, of course, had no intention of sitting bored in a waiting area for any length of time, much less 20 minutes, and especially not with this sudden worry about my husband. On the other hand, I reconsidered that maybe I should take that extra time to go back over those most recent report logs _again_ , just in case I was overlooking something as Spock said. Spock was not a liar. But I knew what I knew.

When Harriman was released to return to duty, Bones motioned me to come on in. “I have a few minutes free now, Captain. What’s on your mind? It must be important—I certainly didn’t expect you to actually be sitting there waiting when I came out.”

I entered and pulled up a chair at his desk. “Yes, it’s definitely serious. I’ve been going over the past few weeks’ mission reports, searching for errors or misstatements. You know, for anything amiss.”

“Uh, okay. That’s pretty standard procedure for you. What brings you here to do that? You can check your PADD anywhere.” McCoy’s eyes alternated between puzzled and annoyed at his best friend’s non-medical and non-alcohol related appearance in medbay at the end of beta shift.

“It's got me worried. Spock just pointed out in our quarters that my recent reports are unprofessional—maybe even harboring fabrications. That’s pretty much the Vulcan equivalent of calling me a damned liar and a sorry-ass officer. I don't get it. I've found absolutely no errors in my reports, so this is totally out of left field. Which means—something weird is going on with Spock.”

“Probably just exhaustion. You’ve both been under an unusually heavy mission load for weeks. Spock probably just needs meditation and rest, much like  _you_  do, Jim. If you recall, I came just short of ordering you to take some time off during our layover at Rigel V, but you insisted on working straight through, so you're one to talk.

"Anyway, I bet there's nothing to worry about with your first officer.”

“Not this time, Bones. I’ve seen Spock in every way possible—exhausted, badly injured, angry. I’ve never seen him like this.  _He’s_  actually the damned liar here. Why would he go out of his way to antagonize me with an accusation so easily proven false? And Bones, his response to exhaustion and unusually heavy workloads hasn’t changed in years. Like you said—sleep and meditation. And...well, you know...with me. But there’s nothing out of the ordinary in my paperwork. And for sure, it’s nowhere near time for that Vulcan 7-year thing. Nope, something’s wrong with Spock and for the life of me, I can’t imagine what it is. I think I’m going to order him to report here for a check up."

"You think he’ll go along with that gracefully, Jim? He’s not due for his annual exam for another four months and you can bet he knows it." Bones and I were more than aware the Vulcan was a stickler for exact adherence to Starfleet regulations, medical or otherwise.

“I’m the captain,” I answered, particularly grateful I could use that to my advantage. “He won’t have a choice when I make it a direct order.”

“Well, send him down. I’ll see what I can find out, if there _is_  anything to find out. Your crazy Vulcan may just be a bit under the weather or something. Vulcans are so seldom sick, it might be that symptoms of some Vulcan diseases present differently from ours. We get snot running out of our orifices, maybe he gets a little crazy. Anything’s possible.”

“I won’t see him tonight. I’ll send him after shift tomorrow,” I assured the doctor.

“You won’t see him tonight? Why not?”

“Because he’s returned to his old quarters 'for the next few days,' he said. No rational explanation given.”

“Few days, huh? Nuh uh. No way.” Bones shook his head as he picked up his own PADD off the desk and started punching up data of some kind. “Yeah, don't wait till after shift. I'll come in for alpha—I want to see him first thing in the morning, Jim. That Vulcan hardly lets you out of his sight—it’s like you two are joined at the hip. For a Human, needing a break from  _you_  might be pretty much expected. For your Vulcan? Yeah, something’s wrong. And we need to find out right now.”

* * * * * * * * *

I was not expecting to be ordered to medbay at the beginning of my shift. I was suddenly under pressure to devise an indisputable argument to stall any examinations here on the Enterprise, or Dr. McCoy would surely discover my secret and tell Jim. And that would completely undermine my plan to protect my husband from grieving my death. Humans had a saying, “Desperate times call for desperate measures,” and this was, indeed, a desperate time.

“Captain, may I speak with you in the briefing room?” Jim had previously motioned me to his chair and informed me of his order to see Dr. McCoy. But it would be unseemly for me to counter a direct order in front of the bridge crew.

“Of course, Commander, but then you’re off to medbay.”

After we entered the command center and the acoustically secure door swished closed, I turned to Jim, hands clasped behind my back.

“Captain, I fail to see the need for my meeting with Dr. McCoy. It is 4.2 standard months before I am due for my next annual checkup.”

“I am aware of that, Commander. However, in light of our discussions last evening, I feel it prudent that Dr. McCoy give you a more thorough once over, just to make sure everything is okay.”

“That would be an inefficient waste of the good doctor’s time and of my own. I fail to see how anything we discussed last evening would be affected by my health. Yours perhaps, but certainly not mine.”

I observed and confirmed by Jim's flash of anger that this was an effective tactic. If flames could have shot from my bondmate's eyes, my hair would be singed.

“That was an order, Mr. Spock. You are to report directly to Dr. McCoy. Immediately, Commander.”

“I must respectfully decline, Captain. I have time-sensitive experiments in the lab which I must observe hourly and record my findings. To be ridiculously stuck in medbay for examination could cause the loss of countless hours of research. We might have to start all over again.”

“Then by God, Mister, you will start them over again. You have your orders.”

As I started to provide yet another argument against being examined, Jim barked at me, “Dismissed!” and turned to leave.

Aware there remained only a small number of times to enjoy this enticing, handsome view of Jim's strong commanding shoulders and that which Humans called a "sexy bubble butt" which I had enjoyed immeasurably through the years, I nonetheless forced myself to override my lust and reiterate, “I respectfully decline, Captain.”

Jim turned back to stare at me, growling, “It is either medbay or the brig. Your choice, Commander. Either way, you'll have to leave your experiments to someone else's care for now.”

“I decline both, Captain.” I knew there was no way out of this except to be incarcerated. And even then, Jim might have the doctor examine me in my detainment cubicle.

Jim punched the com button on the wall. “Security, report to the briefing room. You are to take Commander Spock into custody at once.”

Within 8.9 seconds, two security officers rushed in, obviously unsure of what to expect upon their entrance.

“You are to confine the commander to his former quarters, codelock his door and post a guard. He is under house arrest for refusing to obey a lawful order.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” the officers acknowledged together. They turned and waited for me to begin moving of my own volition, while making it clear they would physically relocate me to my cabin if I did not go voluntarily.

I went willingly, though, much relieved as this was the best possible outcome for my insolence. I could still work and meditate in the privacy of my old quarters, and as I was hiding my pain medication there, I could also maintain my dosage without suspicion. Being unaware I would have reason to be incarcerated, I had not brought medication with me to the bridge. And without it, my pain level and thus my affliction would become obvious within hours.

I ached for Jim—to be with him, to hold him, to love him. All those intimate ecstasies I would never again share with this beloved man—my Human heart, my Vulcan heart. My plan was proving much more difficult than I had imagined, seeing my beloved so angry at me, so disappointed, and to not be able to share my thoughts and love. He could have no idea what was behind my disrespectful attitude and insolence toward him, when only weeks ago our time together had been pleasant and intensely pleasurable.

But I was convinced this was the only logical way to protect Jim from the knowledge that I would soon be dead and our lives together would come to an abrupt end. I had to push him, hard and quickly, until he resented me to the extent he would not grieve or mourn my loss.

Locked in my quarters, I was surrounded by the memories Jim and I had created in this room. Our many chess games which appeared innocent enough but were actually a ruse to provide time spent together alone, learning about each other away from the confines of command. Meanwhile, we each were breaking through the other's carefully constructed façade, attempting to discreetly measure the depth of our regard for each other. We had danced around each other this way for years before Jim boldly kissed me outside the Copernicus. Regrets were illogical, but we had both finally lamented the waste of so many years when we could have been together, had we only been so bold as to state our true feelings for one another.

It was here in my quarters after shift the very next day after our first kiss and intimacy that Jim and I had fallen into each other’s arms as soon as my cabin door closed, and we made passionate love for hours, in every way, from every angle, in every position, with every part of our bodies inside and out, tasting every inch of each other's being, over and over until Jim could no longer stay awake. And even then, after no more than two hours sleep before alpha shift resumed, we again blissfully ravaged each other before assuming our posts on the bridge, all the while counting the moments until we could be together privately again.

We had bonded that third night here in my bed, as I entered Jim’s body and staked the ancient Vulcan claim, my fingers on Jim’s face, sharing our thoughts and the depth of our feelings for each other. It was then, for the first time in my entire existence, that I felt complete and completely accepted. Jim enveloped me with longing, as we held onto each other tightly for the remainder of the night.

I had observed and cataloged many of Jim’s different smiles. But on that night, I observed one I believed no one else had ever seen before—his look of complete and utter contentment and trust.

And now, I had instigated a plan whereby I would destroy every vestige of that trust, and Jim would not be flashing his entrancing smiles again for a long time. Of course, I hoped someday he would find deep love with another. Jim deserved love—all the love that could be given to him, and all the happiness this universe could hold in store.

I only knew one way to make that happen. Destroy his love for me, so he could share that love with someone else someday—someone who would live long and prosper with him.

I was unexpectedly caught off guard at my sudden flareup of jealousy at the thought of Jim with another. I would have to curtail such passions. After all, it was I who was leaving. Soon, he would no longer be... _my_  Jim.

* * * * * * * * *

“Bones! Meet me at Spock’s old quarters on the double! The situation has escalated rapidly.” I commed the doctor immediately after security took Spock away.

“I’ll be there in two minutes, Captain.”

This time, I cursed the lift for taking so long to get to deck 5, and without a second thought, I did run as fast as I could to Spock’s cabin.

“Captain,” Lieutenant Ryan snapped to attention as I approached. “Commander Spock’s quarters are secured and no one has entered since the commander’s confinement.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Remain here while I go in and talk to him alone first. Dr. McCoy will be here shortly. Escort him in and stay just in case you're needed.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

I punched in the security code and watched as the door swished open. I immediately found my bondmate sitting in his meditation corner, incense glowing.

“What is the meaning of that display in the briefing room, Spock?”

Spock gracefully rose and turned to face me, hands clasped behind him as he always used to do. Before we became as one.

“Captain, I am within my rights as an officer and a member of Starfleet to refuse needless medical examination. Furthermore, I will not be bullied. I experienced enough of that as a child. I am a commander in Starfleet and as such, I am entitled to be treated with respect and dignity. I refuse to be addressed in any way that is degrading to my station as a senior officer assigned to this ship, whether I am married to its captain or not. Being my captain does not authorize you to trample on my rights, Sir.”

“Your  _rights_  end where my  _orders_  begin, Commander. And I’ve never known you to be insubordinate for no reason at all. I demand to know what is going on. Answer me now!”

“I believe I just did, Sir.”

“You’re shielding from me. I’ve been so busy I didn’t really take notice until last night. You're blocking me from reading your thoughts and feelings. Why?” I wasn't sure whether I was more angry or worried at this point.

“I choose not to answer that query, Captain. I believe I have effectively _verbalized_ my thoughts on the matter. I am concerned that you choose to ignore my words. Now if you will excuse me, I must return to my meditation.”

“Spock! So you intend to just stay here in your quarters under house arrest for…how long? What has gotten into you? It’s like I don’t know you at all...like you're an impostor...”

At that moment, Bones entered the room with medical bag and tricorder in hand, followed by Lieutenant Ryan.

“I’m here, Jim. Spock, sit on the bed. I’m going to examine you.”

“No, you are not, Doctor. I stand ground on my rights to refuse. Furthermore, you will desist using the tricorder or any other medical equipment to ascertain my health. You will both leave my quarters at once and not return.” Spock was practically snarling at us.

“You green-blooded bastard. Sit down on that bed. That’s an order. You have no right to refuse the Chief Medical Officer,” Dr. McCoy snarled right back.

“Section 4097.38 states that I do. There will be no examination. There will be no readings. You will cease using your instruments on me in my private quarters. If you do not, I will lodge a formal complaint with Starfleet listing each of your illegal actions. Now, leave. Both of you. Or you may detain me in the brig. I care not. As long as you desist what you are doing and leave me alone. Anything further regarding my health and state of being is none of your business.”

Spock wore not the stoic, dry look of a controlled Vulcan, but the angry leer of absolute defiance. Though he spouted regulations, it was he who was breaking half a dozen Starfleet rules, without regard.

I stood staring at my first officer. My best friend. My lover.

“I don’t understand you, Spock. Make me understand.” I was now almost panicking at Spock’s behavior.

“Spock,” Dr. McCoy intervened. “Does your head hurt? Is there pain behind your eyes? I’d like to do a brain scan and see what’s going on. Even you must know this is not normal behavior for a Vulcan or even a Human, and you are both. You know I can have you declared unfit for duty, emotionally compromised, and commit you to medbay for observation for 72 hours without even having to submit paperwork to show cause. If you do not allow me to examine you right now, I’ll commit you and not blink an eye.”

Spock stared right through McCoy, and I saw the second Spock snapped. He raged toward McCoy, roaring and shoving the doctor toward the closest bulkhead, his hands moving around McCoy’s neck. “You.Will.Not.Threaten.Me. I have rights. Get out now. GET OUT!”

My heart was sinking as I circled stealthily behind Spock to Lieutenant Ryan and silently motioned for him to set his phaser on lowest stun and fire on his first officer, which forced Spock to release Dr. McCoy and to crumple down to the deck. “Commander Spock, you are hereby remanded to the brig, under Lieutenant Ryan's guard.” I reached under Spock’s arm and pulled him up. “I will accompany both of you there now. Come with us, please.”

Spock looked at me with venomous eyes. But his body language was that of submission, and he moved toward the door, Ryan's phaser trained on his every move.

When we had Spock secured in his cell and the force field engaged, I dismissed Ryan. I turned back to my husband, trying to figure out what I was missing. It was no longer the brusque captain speaking, but rather the barely controlled worries of the love-sick Human, in shock at the behavior my bondmate had exhibited toward me suddenly, these past few days, and much worse now toward Dr. McCoy.

“Spock, I love you. I’m your husband. Please, Baby, stop shielding from me. Tell me what's wrong. It's okay, no matter what it is. I'll do my best to understand. We'll work through it together.”

“Captain, I find our relationship no longer tenable. I am realizing that you are not the man I thought you were, the officer I thought I married. Your actions of the past few weeks are not those of a responsible commanding officer. I do not respect the lack of professionalism you have shown. I find that my regard for you is dwindling rapidly.

“I request an immediate transfer from the Enterprise.”

“A what? Transfer? What are you talking about? You’re my husband, Spock. Of course I’m not transferring you anywhere. I’ll give you as much time as you need to settle down and rest and meditate and whatever else you need and then we’ll talk. Until then, I’ll stay away, and so will Dr. McCoy. You’ll have continued access to your PADD and your meditation materials. I’ll have them brought down as soon as I go back to the bridge.

“But please lower your shields against me, Spock. Help me understand what just went on. I miss your presence in my mind.”

“My formal request for transfer will be submitted as soon as you return my PADD," Spock insisted. "Captain Kirk, I no longer wish to serve on the Enterprise under your command.”

“Spock. My God, you've got to explain this to me!”

“I have already explained fully, Sir. You refuse to accept my explanation. You will have my transfer request within the hour.”

“Request denied, Mr. Spock.” My blood ran cold at the look of disgust on my husband’s face. My heart was pounding.

“Then I hereby notify you of my intention to resign my commission with Starfleet, effectively immediately. You have no legal right to deny it. I will be relocating to New Vulcan as soon as possible.” Spock practically spit the words toward me. The vehemence in his eyes was something I never wanted to see again in my lifetime. This was not the man I married—the man I loved with all my heart. This Spock was a total stranger. He turned away from me.

“What about…us? Me? Our marriage? Our eternal bond?” I didn't mean to whimper, but that's how it came out. I was crumbling, more by the second.

“It is my intention to have our bond severed on New Vulcan. It will be entirely up to you whether to divorce me according to your Terran laws. It does not concern me.”

“Spock. I...I don’t want a divorce. I’ve never…never known such love as you and I share. I meant it when I promised forever.”

“Then take it under advisement, Captain, that the end of forever has arrived much sooner than you expected.”

I felt as though Spock had driven a burning stake through my gut. We had waited so long to be together, and we’d only had fewer than five years. I felt nauseous as I turned to go back to the bridge. I guess it made some kind of sense in the balance of things, quite fitting with the rest of my life. As I’d never known such joy before Spock, I had never known misery like I was feeling now.

But I needed to know why. I turned back to his cell.

“Spock? Spock, turn around and talk to me. As your bondmate, I deserve an answer to all of this. What has changed? What have I done wrong to you?” Spock refused to turn back and face me.

Dr. McCoy suddenly appeared at my side. “Jim, I was thinking maybe if you give Spock some time, he’ll change his attitude a bit. Why don't you go back to the bridge and let me have some time with him, just for a few moments.”

I shook my head yes and left down the corridor. But as it curved out of sight, I pressed back against the bulkhead and strained to listen.

“Doctor, I have the right to refuse visitors. I have nothing to say.”

“Good, Spock. You can just listen then.

“Do you recall a little conversation I had with you around five years ago, right after you bonded with Jim and asked him to marry you?”

“I remember multiple conversations with you, Dr. McCoy. To which are you referring?”

“The one where I told you what I’d do to you if you ever,  _ever_  hurt Jim. Ah, yes. I see by your expression that you very well remember which one I'm talking about.

"Did you somehow think I didn’t mean it? Jim has seen a lot of pain in his life. His dad died the day he was born. His stepfather practically tortured him. He was shipped to Tarsus IV and almost starved to death, plus he watched people— _kids_ —he cared about die.

“He was scared for a lot of years to tell you he loved you. He loved you so damned much he wouldn't chance losing you as his best friend. But he decided to take the risk and finally tell you the truth.

“You have to know what a huge deal it was for Jim to become that vulnerable and open his heart to you.

“My promise to you didn’t have a time limit, you pointy-eared asshole. When I told you I’d make you regret it the rest of your life if you ever hurt Jim, I didn’t mean if you hurt him during the first year or the fifth or the seventy-fifth. I meant forever till the day I die.”

“Thank you, Doctor, for jogging my memory.” Spock’s tone dripped with sarcasm.

“I’m going to get in touch with Sarek and find out if he knows what's going on. Something’s wrong with you and you apparently don’t even know it, which makes it more difficult to deal with. Meanwhile, you’re hurting the man who has sacrificed everything for all of us, and given his life for you and to you.

“And I swear to you, when we find out what it is and get you well, and you come begging Jim to take you back, I’m going to advise him to kick you where it hurts. I might well do it myself. I would now if this blasted force field didn’t separate us.”

“You may try, Doctor. But I would highly advise against it. I demand you leave me now. I am invoking my rights per Starfleet regulation 257.43. My grievance will be filed within the hour.”

As Bones walked away, I realized my face was wet. I hadn’t known Bones talked with Spock back then. And now, Spock ignoring his promise and threatening Bones? More pieces of my world kept crashing at my feet.


	3. I love thee to the level of every day’s Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light

Jim relented after 19.3 hours and ordered me returned to my quarters, still under guard. My PADD having been brought while in the brig as Jim assured, I had already filed all necessary documentation formalizing my resignation from Starfleet. I would be relieved of my privileges and duties to the Enterprise and her captain at our next stop, Norellus—a significant M-class Federation planet now only hours away from which I would shuttle one final time to New Vulcan. This desert refuge had never been my home during my life but now would be for eternity in my death.

I forced myself to not linger regarding how I would also be relieved of my privileges and duties to my beloved Human mate—condemned to never again tremble at the sight of his enchanting face nor lose myself in the vast blue depths of his eyes. And of course, if Jim chose not to accompany my escort to the transporter room, those finalities may already have transpired.

By the time I was returned to my cabin, my tolerance for the rapidly intensifying pain was decaying, so I was grateful to again be near replenishment of my medication as all I had hidden on my person was depleted. I was no longer ever completely pain-free even with increased dosage, but it did enable me to mask the worst from Jim and Leonard if necessary, as they were the only ones with access to my quarters.

From my personal console, I video-commed my father, Ambassador Sarek, who was presently working on New Vulcan, and informed him of my changed status. My father received my declaration with his usual stoic acceptance, though I could tell my news disturbed him.

“My son, you have harbored great regard for James for many years and have been through much with him. We whom you and your captain were instrumental in rescuing from the destruction of Vulcan revere you both for your heroics against Nero. Your husband has proven to be a remarkably suitable mate for you. Why do you now leave him and resign your commission?”

“Father, I have gained a deeper appreciation for Surak’s precepts. Human passions fluctuate with so little provocation. The unending need to accommodate their unpredictable whimsies is draining—energy better utilized in the pursuit of knowledge. Jim has changed. I have changed. We are no longer compatible.” I had already determined to keep the news of my impending death hidden from the rest of my family, also. They might feel morally obligated to reveal it to my bondmate.

I lied. Lie upon lie. My statements could neither be justified as implication nor exaggeration. Rather, I believed this to be an act of compassion, necessary to unencumber Jim's heart and free him to explore future happiness.

“My son, are you saying you no longer love James Kirk?”

“In this instance, Father, my love for the captain is no longer relevant.”

As I bade my father farewell, I disconnected our transmission before he could extend the ta'al to share our traditional parting exchange. I could no longer control my facial expressions were I to watch, for the final time, my father's entreaty to live long and prosper, as I would do neither. My emotions might crumple shamefully before him, and as he had already lost my mother to a violent death, I did not wish him time to contemplate losing a son. I preferred my father remember me as I was before the debilitating illness overtook me.

And now, as my time aboard the Enterprise dwindled to a precious few hours, I dwelt within my greatest agony—separation from my t’hy’la. With each passing moment, my heart yearned for Jim with such need that it required constant suppression against the erosion of my resolve to protect Jim from further suffering. The loss he would experience today was far preferable to that of watching me suffer as my life passed away. I would do anything to protect Jim from the torment I felt watching _him_  die.

I focused on the impending severance of our marital bond by a Vulcan elder, which would finally deliver relief from the strain of keeping up my mental shields against Jim’s _relentless_ probing. Afterward, I would implant my katra with a Vulcan priest, releasing me to walk, as I had newly decided would be more suitable, out into the scorching, swirling sands of the New Forge desert and surrender up my existence, logically and without witness.

* * * * * * * * *

“Jim, go to him. Grab him. Make love to him. Remind him what you have together. He’s fallen on his head or something. It's like he has... _love_  amnesia. You can’t let Spock go off like this. That Vulcan adores you and has for years. There's no way he really wants to leave you. We both know it’s impossible for him to have just stopped wanting you.”

Dr. McCoy had brought fresh-brewed coffee and ridiculously sweet pastries to my cabin early before alpha shift, trying to ease my misery and help sort through all Spock had said and done the past few days. My husband, my  _love_ , had always been open and honest with me. Until now…

“I have no idea what I'm supposed to do," I fearfully admitted. "He refuses to talk to me or even to  _look_  at me. He won’t answer any of my questions. He’s totally shut himself off from me and apparently he's determined to leave without revealing the true reason. His resignation has already been accepted by Starfleet. He’ll be leaving the Enterprise forever—leaving  _me_ forever—in just a few hours." I stood and began pacing beside my desk, my gut revulsed at food but drawn desperately to the warmth of my coffee mug.

“Bones, you didn’t see him that night he got back from Rigel V. He was cold. Insulting. Arrogant. He _lied_ about me! I thought he was an ass that day he had me brought up for cheating on the Kobayashi Maru test. But this? The way he’s been acting these past few days and the things he's said?  
  
"And the ultimate cruelty, closing off his mind from me so I can’t even feel his presence.” I just kept shaking my head in disbelief. “And he’s having our mating bond severed.  _Severed!_  I thought it was practically unbreakable—I thought it was sacred, forever. It’s as though he’s already destroyed it for all practical purposes.”

“Jim, there’s just something the matter with Spock. This isn’t normal for any being. He’s not a cruel man—at least not any more. He’s been consistently caring and doting on you for your entire marriage. Well, unless you’ve been holding out on me. Have you?”

“No! No, Bones.”

“Then you and I both know that kind of devotion doesn’t turn off overnight for no reason.”

“What do we know really, Bones? Maybe Vulcan love has an expiration date and we hit ours. God, I miss Selek. I desperately need his advice now.”

“I know you miss him. I’m sorry, Jim. But you already know none of this is logical, and an unimpaired Spock is nothing if not _infuriatingly_  logical. Something’s going on.”

“That's another thing, Bones. I’ve gone over and over everything in my head. How Spock refused to allow you to examine him after he returned from his time on Rigel V. Everything was fine until he returned from there.”

“Was it really, Jim? I seem to recall you mentioning something being a little off kilter with him even before our layover there.” I couldn't deny that McCoy made a valid point. "And Spock never even told you how he spent his time there, did he?"

“Well, no, you’re right. But it was just little nagging things. Not a big blowup like when he returned. No talk of my lack of professionalism as a captain or his loss of respect for me. No talk of leaving.”

“Then I’d say at this point our best bet at finding answers is on Rigel V. At least that’s a place to start." Bones peered over at our wall chronometer. "But we'd better hurry, Jim. It’s only hours until he’s totally gone, and you may never get another chance to find what you’re looking for.”

I finished my coffee and hurried to the bridge where I began alpha shift in the captain’s chair. But as we were still hours away from picking up a shipment of deuterium from the planet Norellus, where Spock planned to beam down and procure a shuttle to take him home to New Vulcan, I passed the conn to Sulu and left to do some untraceable research of my own in the briefing room.

_A shuttle to take him home to New Vulcan._

How could Spock ever think of New Vulcan as his home now? His home was with me. Our home was supposed to be wherever we were together. We made promises. _Promises_. This was how the rest of our lives was supposed to be.

I grabbed the closest container as my stomach seized and retched. How did this happen? How did we get to this point? How was I ever going to get through this...this losing the man I loved, suddenly, cruelly?

I forced myself to breathe deeply as I splashed cold water on my face and cleaned up and evacuated my mess.

Then I didn't waste a second feeling guilty as I shamelessly hacked into Rigel V’s interplanetary visitation system and easily accessed the tracking records of Spock's visit. His first action after beam down to R-5-14 processing center had been a brief hover trip to the capital city of New Jaleyl, where he checked into a hotel called the New Grace Mem…

No.  _What_? Oh my God. 

Not a hotel. A  _hospital_  called New Grace Memorial.

A hospital. I froze in time as shockwaves rippled across my entire body.

My heart pounded as I tried to wrap my head around this new revelation. If Spock had gone down to Rigel V with the express purpose of checking into a medical facility, then New Grace Memorial must hold the answers I desperately needed. I commed Nyota to patch me through to Rigel V and New Grace as quickly as possible. Then I commed Bones to get down here right away.  
  
When the connection chimed, I expected to use my position as Spock’s commanding officer and husband to find out about any medical conditions they had examined there. But their fucking privacy protocol was so damned highly restrictive even to immediate family that they wouldn’t admit they’d even heard of him, much less that he'd ever been a patient there. They would, however, put me through to speak with the office of the on-call Vulcan Healer of record. As Bones swept through the door, I motioned for him to sit by me at the console.

“We’re sorry, Captain Kirk,” some saccharin Rigelian voice oozed with phony concern, “but law requires we may only share medical information with our patients’ regular licensed physicians. Your presence will not be allowed for any medical discussions. Do you have access to any of his… _Mr. Spock’s_ …medical team?”

 _Team? He needed a team?_ _What the hell was wrong with my husband?_ My thoughts were running away with me, jumping of course to the worst possible conclusions about what it could be. Little did I know my worst fears couldn't touch how horrible the actual truth was.

Bones leaned toward the console, clearing his throat. “Yes. Yes, this is Dr. Leonard H. McCoy, Spock’s personal physician and chief medical officer aboard the United Federation of Planets Starship Enterprise." Obviously, Bones expected the full, formal title to intimidate the dirtside healer during this exchange so he could throw his weight around. "Captain Kirk is Spock’s husband, so he has the right to be present for our conversation."

Bones' ploy held no weight whatsoever with the Rigelian. “No, he does not, Dr. McCoy,” the infuriating voice countered. “Captain James T. Kirk is listed by name specifically in Commander Spock’s file as being forbidden to receive information regarding his health. We take all privacy requests from offworlders very seriously.”

“You gotta be kidding me." _Fucking exasperating bureaucrats_ , Bones groused under his breath. “Very well, then. I will be your sole contact here. I need you to send me all of Spock’s records and examination and test results acquired while he was a patient at New Grace Memorial.” Bones was obviously straining against his natural curmudgeon instincts, trying to be civil with those who held our answers. After all, he’d be sharing whatever he learned with me as soon as he found out himself. Bones sent them digital proof of his medical credentials and the stardate Spock checked into the hospital, and in turn they would be relaying within minutes Spock’s complete medical records compiled during his visit there.

Just to ensure the doctor's plausible deniability if the Rigelians required proof I was not present for the exchange, I returned to the bridge, relieving Sulu and getting updated on our progress and scheduled time of arrival at Norellus. I trusted Bones would let me know the minute he learned anything from New Grace.

I was signing off on my latest status log when Bones burst through the lift door, practically tripping over himself as he rushed toward my chair. “Captain,” he whispered frantically, “We’ve got to get to New Vulcan as quickly as possible.” I turned to face him, as he bent down to my ear. “Spock’s dying. I mean, right now. His death is imminent!”

“Sulu, take over the conn,” I called out, and rising from my chair I cried, “Get me off this bridge. I’m officially declaring myself emotionally compromised.” Sulu and Chekov rushed to grab my arms as they watched my knees start to buckle. Darkness threatened to overtake me.

“Take him to medbay,” I heard Bones command from a foggy distance. “I’ll meet you there shortly. Jim, I’m going to stop in and check on Spock.”

“I’m…I’m coming with you,” I tried to say, but my mouth wouldn’t form the words right.

Bones must have understood well enough though, as he replied, “No, I need to see Spock alone first. Nyota, take the chair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon:  
> Rigel V was the location of the development of the stimulant used to speed up Spock's blood production and replacement in the body, which helped save Sarek's life in TOS episode, "Journey to Babel."  
> http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Rigel_V  
> Non-Canon:  
> "...Rigel V... became home to the Rigelians, a vulcanoid race...The capital city was New Jaleyl, while its spiritual center was the Monastery of Gol."  
> "By the 11th century, Rigelian civilization was at its height, represented by the city of _Ancient_ Grace..."  
>  I extrapolated that in modern times, there might be a suburb named _New_ Grace.  
>  http://memory-beta.wikia.com/wiki/Rigel_V


	4. when feeling out of sight For the ends of being

“How long were you going to keep it from him, Spock?”

I felt both seething anger and heart-wrenching sympathy. The security guard at Spock’s door had coded me into the first officer's quarters where I found him writhing on his bed, his face contorted as the intense pain surpassed his ability to tolerate with Vulcan mind control techniques. I was shocked by what I saw—even the hospital’s very recent prognosis did not project Spock’s pain level would elevate this rapidly. The alarming rate at which his condition was deteriorating surpassed anything I had ever observed before.

“Where are your meds, Spock?” I barked. “Why in blazes haven’t you taken them?”

“Doctor, go away. Get out!” Spock's words were pinched, as it was obviously a struggle to speak.

“Too late for that, Spock. I’m already in here and I’m not leaving. Jim found out you checked into a hospital on Rigel V, and I read your medical records from the Vulcan healer who took your case at New Grace Memorial. According to the report, they sent you back with enough pain control hypos to last for months. Where are they?”

Spock mumbled something I couldn’t quite understand, but since I was sure they’d be lying around within his reach, I searched till I found them and prepared one for injection.

“They are no longer useful, Doctor,” Spock groaned. “They are a waste of medical resources.”

“Shut up Spock and lean your head that way.” I dialed it up 4cc's and discharged the hypo into his neck. "Your records instructed you to increase the dosage as needed. You obviously haven’t been doing that. Why not?”

“Go away, Doctor. I have…ri...” Spock cried out in agony, convulsing as he was doubled over by what appeared to be a sudden, intense stomach cramp before the hypo could take effect.

“Answer me, dammit! I said how long were you going to let Jim go on suffering, thinking you had stopped loving him, instead of telling him the truth that you have Verilinia?”

“I intend for him never to…find out about my death. He will go on to live his life, love…another. Find happiness again. You are required,” Spock stopped and panted, arms hugging his stomach, “to follow your oath and protect my privacy.”

Spock’s every word was a battle to say. He turned on his side, facing away from me, squeezing his knees tighter to his chest.

“You don’t know Jim Kirk very well, do you? How after all these years can you not know the man you're married to?

“Jim's invested all that he is in loving you. You’re _it_ for him. He’ll never take a chance on loving anyone else again if you leave him this way, lying to him, forcing him to believe you don’t love or respect him anymore.” I felt like an ass being so brutally honest, but so far it seemed to me Spock had also been lying to himself, and I refused to further enable his self-deception.

“Not _if_ , doctor. _When_. I have no say in the matter. I _will_ be leaving him. Verilinia is fatal. There is no cure nor even a treatment to slow its progression. I will…be dead. Within days. Maybe even...hours.”

“You pig headed, stubborn...”

Spock wailed and trembled, turning back toward me and grabbing my arm as he did so.

“Doctor, you must not tell Jim. He cannot know. I have made him despise me. Help…help him find happiness again. Make him forget me. You must—help me destroy any remaining feelings he harbors for me.”

“I will do no such thing, you idiot. You have no right to determine Jim’s future. You have no right to lie to him right now. Sure it will hurt him to lose you, but it’s his right to hurt. Shit, Spock. Your bondmate has rights too. I was there and heard his vows to you at your wedding, as did you and everybody else. He insisted on the ancient words. ‘In sickness and in health, till death do you part.’“

“No. Please. You cannot allow him to suffer.”

“He’s suffering right now,” I practically screamed at him. “What’s with you Spock? How could you believe for a second that you could simply slam the door in Jim’s face like this and he’d just get mad and walk away and go pick up somebody else? Do you have so little understanding and respect for how deeply he truly loves you? How the hell could you share a bond with this man all these years and not know what’s in that pretty little head and heart of his for you?

“You _own_ him, Spock. He is 100 percent yours. He’s dying _himself_ out there a little more every hour because of the way you’re treating him. And that’s entirely on you, Spock. Not on your disease. On _you_! You’re guilty of inflicting the pain he feels right now.”

“No, I cannot…I…I…”

Spock cried out in anguish again as I realized he had been truthful about the medication becoming ineffective against his pain. The disease was advancing much more aggressively than the Vulcan healer had calculated.

I grappled with what I, as Spock’s physician, should do next. I could understand Spock’s desire to prevent Jim going through this with him, watching the love of his life suffer to death. I had grieved and suffered myself at Jim’s death before Khan’s blood brought him back from the dead.

But on the other hand, it was absolutely Jim’s right as Spock’s husband to know the truth—he deserved it. I would not help Spock lie to my best friend. I would just be there for him—for them both in the coming days and for however long I was needed…afterward.

Watching Spock's agony this way, I made my decision.

“I’ll be right back, Spock. I’m going to get Jim.” Spock had run out of strength to argue any more.

It was with heavy heart that I headed for medbay to tell Jim. But Spock's guard, Lieutenant Ryan, stopped me.

"Dr. McCoy, the captain refused to go to medbay. He insisted Lieutenants Sulu and Chekov bring him back here to his quarters."

" _Of course_ he did. Thank you, Lieutenant." Damned fool. If I'd rolled my eyes any harder, they'd have popped out onto the deck. I turned back the other way and coded myself into Jim's cabin.

"Couldn't do what I told you to do, could you, Kid?"

“Bones, never mind that. What did you find out? You said Spock’s dying right now!” Jim practically attacked me as soon as his cabin door opened. I hugged my younger best friend tightly and patted his back. Then I gently pushed him away so I could look into his face to tell him the truth.

“Jim, I’m so sorry. I hate having to tell you this.”

“Just spit it out, Bones. What did the report from New Grace say?”

“We were right. Spock is ill—very ill. Here, sit down.” I motioned to his chair by the desk.

“I don’t want to sit down, Bones. I want you to start talking and tell me everything you found out about Spock dying!”

“I know, Kid. But you need to sit down. I’m going to get you some water.”

“Oh my God, stop it! I don’t need a handler, Bones. I need the truth. All of it. What does Spock have?” Jim was trembling with frustration and emotional shock.

“He has Verilinia. It’s a congenital disease known only to Vulcans. I was wrong. There's no need to hurry to New Vulcan. There's nothing there to help—no treatment, no cure. I'm so sorry, Jim. He's not going to make it much longer.”

My heart broke as my best friend’s eyes widened with horror at the finality of my pronouncement.

“No,” Jim sobbed and sank to his knees, a broken man. Shoulders quaking, his head dropping into his hands, he absently repeated, “No. No…not Spock…not my Spock…no…no, please God, no.”

I dropped to my knees, too, and wrapping my arms around him, Jim wept into my shoulder. I began rocking him as though he were my son.

So this was what Spock tried so hard to protect Jim from having to feel. Maybe Spock was right after all.

 


	5. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints

Bones lifted me up and handed me wads of tissues. "You need to go see him, Kid, but not looking like this. Go splash some cold water on your face. You gotta put up your bravest front for him, Jim. He's too weak to handle seeing you this despondent. Everything he's done, every outrageous thing he's said was to protect you from seeing the very thing you're going to confront in a minute."

I did as the doctor ordered, and then Bones walked with me to Spock’s door. Before I entered, he tried so hard to leave me with at least a tiny molecule of hope, no matter how improbable we both knew it was.

“Jim, I want you to know I’m not giving up on this,” he assured me. “I’m going straight to my office and contact New Grace again. Spock’s meds are nowhere near adequate to control his acute pain level, so they need to tell me how to mix up something here on the ship I can give him without damaging his Vulcan organs further. And I’m pulling every off-duty crewmember possible to start searching again for any clinical trials or news of Verilinia treatments anywhere in the known galaxy.  There are so few remaining Vulcans after Nero’s attack, surely there have to be others interested in finding a cure to prevent losing any of those few survivors to such a monstrous disease.”

“Thanks, Bones. Just do everything you can for him. I’ll try anything. I’d give my life to save him.”

“You already did, Jim. Isn’t once enough?”

I tissued my nose again and tried to steel myself before going in to see Spock. “He’s in there dying right now. I can’t just stand by and watch that happen, can I? I won’t. I just won't.

“I was thinking. How about injecting him with Khan’s blood? Or _my_ blood?”

“His Vulcan blood isn’t compatible with Human blood cells," Bones assured me. "Injecting him with your blood would kill him even sooner. It worked for you because Khan and you are both Human and share the same basic anatomy. I promise, just as soon as I finish talking to the hospital, my entire department will start experimenting with derivatives of Khan’s blood and see if we can find a way to make it compatible with Spock’s physiology. If it can be done, we’ll make it happen. At this point, anything is worth a try.”

“I don’t understand," I countered. "It worked with the tribble and it didn’t have Human blood.”

“No, but its blood was iron-based same as Humans, not copper like Vulcans. And before you ask the next logical question,” Bones held up his hand to stop me, “Sarek and Amanda required extreme medical intervention and extraordinary means to conceive Spock and carry him to a live birth. Spock is the only surviving half Human, half Vulcan in the known universe.”

“Then let’s have someone look into that, too, Bones. Maybe get in touch with Amanda’s doctor on New Vulcan?”

“Jim, you're not thinking clearly. Billions of people died when Nero destroyed Vulcan, including Amanda herself. And along with all those Vulcans were doctors. And millennia of medical and scientific research—all lost. And all those implanted and stored katras, full of lifetimes of Vulcan knowledge.”

“But Bones!” I desperately pleaded.

“Hey, I’m not saying I won’t try, Jim. I’m just saying…”

“I know, I know. There’s not much chance. But as long as there’s _any_ chance…”

“Then let me get to it. I’ve got work to do. Go to your husband. But be prepared. He’s in grave pain. As soon as I finish with New Grace, I’ll be back to induce coma so he won’t be suffering like this.”

“I need him, Bones. Do what you can.”

“You got it, Captain. And I’m gonna take care of you too. I’ll be watching over you both. Use this time to let him know you forgive him. He's going to need that. Then comm when you’re ready for me to induce unconsciousness. Spock apparently is either unable or unwilling to put himself into a Vulcan healing trance at this point.”

I turned and dismissed the guard. How ridiculous I was to have posted him. Spock was guilty of nothing but trying to protect me. Not exactly grounds for court martial. I dreaded opening that door, but I could hardly wait to see my Spock again. From the description Bones gave me, I knew this reunion was going to take every bit of self control I could dig up to be strong for my love.

When the door slid open, all my resolve crumbled to dust at my feet. There was no way I could have prepared myself for the sight of the man I loved balled up in the corner on the floor, convulsing and jerking in torment.

“Spock! Oh my God, Spock!” Everything inside me shattered. “Spock!” I cried out as I dove to his side. “Baby, no.” I wrapped my arms around him, thoughtless as to whether my actions could cause him greater pain. But it didn't seem to matter.

“Spock, I’m so sorry. I love you. God, I love you so much!” I was whimpering, lost and helpless, overcome with guilt that I could ever have accused my husband of being cruel to me. I was being swallowed up by my own inadequacy, unable to help him in any way. I pulled him into my lap.

He barely opened his eyes and turned his head to look at me. “Jim. It is happening…so quickly. It will not be long now.”

“No, Spock. No! You will not give in to this thing. That’s an order! Bones is doing everything he can to find anyone anywhere working on this disease. You will _not_ give up, you hear me? I’m not giving up. _We…_ are not giving up! You’re everything I’ve always wanted, I’ve ever needed. I won’t lose you now.”

“I…I cherish thee." Spock's broken whisper was barely audible. "Thank you for loving me. I…I have been...always shall…yours.”

“No, Spock. No! Don’t you _dare_ tell me goodbye, dammit! You will not do that, you hear me? This is not goodbye! We’re not done fighting yet. You _will_ hold your position and not surrender, Commander!” I was babbling frantically, as though by sheer will I could command the disease to not destroy him.

Tears burned me, blinded me, when all I wanted to do was gaze at my love’s face, to see myself in his eyes. There was so much pain there. Spock’s breathing was severely labored, his heart rate wild in response to the intensity of his suffering.

I took out my communicator and flipped it open. “Bones! Bones! Report to Spock’s cabin immediately. We’re ready.”

“What…what are we ready for?” Spock moaned.

“Bones is going to place you in a medically-induced coma to buy us some time to find someone working on this disease. We won’t go down without a fight, Baby. I’m not letting you go.”

“I do not…I cannot hold on much longer. I am sorry for the things…I said. I did not mean…”

“Hush, Spock, shhh. Don’t speak, Baby. Save your strength. I know…I know. I’m so sorry I ever doubted you.”

“You are…everything…to me. I am sorry I have to leave you. Please, Jim…important...be happy again. Find love…again.” His gaunt face squeezed tighter as he fought against the ravaging torture. "Love…looks so beautiful on you. I never wanted to bring you sadness.”

I couldn't breathe. Here my husband was suffering the tortures of the damned and all he could do was worry about _my_ happiness.

“Spock, I told you—stop telling me goodbye. Baby, I would go through _anything_ to have the time we’ve had together. Anything. I would do anything to keep you with me.”

“You cannot…Jim.” He shuddered and stiffened in my arms. I was reaching for my communicator again just as Bones burst through the door.

“Here, here Jim. The hospital suggested a mixture of meds we had on hand that might work to fight the pain.” Bones bent down and injected Spock’s neck. Spock’s muscles immediately loosened and relaxed for the first time since I came in.

“There, that’s better,” Bones smiled slightly, relieved that his concoction was working. “Jim, I’m going to put him under now. If you have anything else to tell him, now’s the time to do it.”

“No, we’ve said everything we need to say.” I reached down to Spock’s lips, pressing my mouth softly against his, trying to convey the entire depth of love I held for him, within what might unbearably be our last conscious touch.

Spock struggled to speak, so I bent my ear close to his mouth.

“Each kiss…is as the first.” I smiled at him through my tears, shaking my head, yes.

I nodded to Bones, indicating for him to go ahead and put Spock to sleep. As Spock went limp, sliding down into unconsciousness, I scooped him up in my arms and laid him back on the bed, straightening out his legs and arms and his sleeping robe, adjusting his pillow the way I had watched him do almost every night since that first night we spent together, making love. I brought Spock’s fingers to my lips then lowered them back to his side.

Turning to Bones, I implored, “So has anyone found out anything yet?”

“No, Jim, not yet. So far, Rigel V had the most up-to-date information available. But I have fifty people on it right now. If there’s anything anywhere, they’ll find it. Until then, there’s nothing you can do but wait and let us work. The entire department's lab technicians are working on Khan’s blood, too, trying to develop a serum that might work.”

“Did you talk to Sarek?”

“I did," Bones replied, "and I don’t ever fucking want to see that look in a Vulcan’s eyes again. It broke the man to learn his son was dying and Spock hadn’t told him. He was certain if there was any active research at the time Nero took out their planet, it disappeared with the implosion. But he insisted he would get in touch with his medical contacts and find out for sure.

“How long since you ate anything, Jim?”

“What?” I just stared at him, as I walked back to my desk. “Ate? Who the fuck cares?” Nothing could have been less important to me now.

“You need to keep up your strength. We don't need you sick, too, Captain. Scotty’s got the conn and everything with the ship is under control. We still have two hours till we enter orbit around Norellus. Eat and get some rest.”

“Sure, Bones, sure," I tried not to sound as sarcastic as I felt. "You can go now. I’m staying with Spock. I’ve got some more research of my own to do. Go help the others. Please find a way to make Khan’s blood work.”

“We’re trying. Eat, like I said. I’m just a comm away if you need me. If Spock’s status changes _at all_ , let me know immediately.” Bones shot me one of those looks, the one where his eyes show his deep concern and exhaustion when he can’t find the solution he needs for some problem—mixed in with the one showing how much he loves me and feels guilty he can’t protect me from everything bad that can happen in my life.

I went straight to my console and started hacking into every Vulcan medical facility spread throughout the known universe, trying to find anything Bones or the crew missed. I could not accept that a Vulcan disease would be so illogically ignored just because it was rare. Vulcans weren’t like that. They were nothing if not thorough and too arrogant to allow a mystery like this disease to continue unsolved.

Until now. There was nothing in any of the files anywhere about Verilinia or even an attempt to discover a cure.

I leaned back in my chair and angrily ran fingers through my untended hair. I begrudgingly admitted to myself that McCoy was right. I needed nourishment. My brain was getting foggy from the extreme emotions and energy expended. And I needed a shower. Badly. Maybe what I really needed most was a fresh start. 

After some protein and hot coffee, I checked on Spock. His breathing and heartrate were much more peaceful, so I decided to risk taking a quick shower.

I was lathering up when suddenly I realized a tiny thought had been nagging at the back of my mind all day, but I had been too delirious to pay it any attention. What was it?

As I rinsed my hair, I remembered something, though I couldn’t imagine why it came to mind now. A report I’d read about an incident years ago when the USS Potemkin ran across the wreckage of some survey vessel floating dead in space.

What was that? The name of the destroyed vessel?  I cleared the shampoo from my ears and shook the excess water from my hair as I reached for the towels, wrapping one around my waist and scrubbing my hair semi-dry with the other. The USS…no…SS…something…dog. Archer. Beagle!  I snapped my fingers as the word associations honed in on the memory. Wreckage from the SS Beagle was discovered years after it went missing. Commanded by Captain…uh…Captain Merik. Yes, that was it. Merik. Crewmembers survived by beaming down to a nearby M-class planet.

So what? What did this have to do with Spock? Why think of this now? But it kept nagging at me. Clearly there was more to it.  
  
I rushed to my console and punched up the mission report, which I quickly skimmed.

_Survivors, including Captain Merik, were found on Planet 4, Star System 892, after no bodies were discovered in the wreckage. Planet 4 was M-class, almost identical to earth in composition and atmosphere, proportion of land to ocean._

_The planet mirrored 20 th century Earth had Rome never fallen. The planet was rife with slaves and gladiators and staged sporting games to the death in public arenas, where the populous gathered to watch supposed criminals or enemies of the state pitted against each other._

How could such animalistic behavior exist in a somewhat modern society?

_The rulers of Planet 4 attempted to hijack the Potemkin and enslave its 400 crewmembers. They were unsuccessful and most of the crew survived. The “Children of the Sun,” believers in love and brotherhood, continued their peaceful crusade to depose the imperialistic despots and their barbaric practices and introduce democracy throughout the civilization._

_“Children of the Sun.”_  It seemed like that was the part nagging at the back of my mind. But what did it mean? Why did I remember that one phrase more than any other?

Oh. No, not Children of the Sun. Not sun worshipers. In my hurry, I had read it wrong. It said son. "Children of the Son," implying the Son of God.

I punched the top of my desk with closed fist. That’s ridiculous. There is no “God” so there is no “Son.” This was the equivalent of 20th century Earth. By then, people should have been educated beyond silly mythological beliefs. By modern ages, civilization should be discovering and accepting the truth of evolution and the formation of planets and varied lifeforms.

I glanced over at my husband, his face lined deeply from suffering, in spite of the coma. The sight of him lying there—still _alive—_ took my breath away even now, after all these years. He was so handsome. I desperately wished this was all some horrendous night terror I could wake up from. "Spock, please. Make us wake up from this nightmare," I whispered. I turned back to the screen, as I was inexplicably driven to read further.  
  
_It was reported that Lieutenant Ikesha Selemas, engineer on the Potemkin_ , _sustained life-threatening injuries during her forced fighting match against fellow crewman Lieutenant Commander Robert Russell before a live audience. Russell was punished—whipped—for refusing to complete the kill, and Lieutenant Selemas was taken back to her cage, where she was expected to expire before day’s end._

 _The leader of_ Children of the Son _was incarcerated with her. He laid hands on Selemas, whispered prayers on her behalf, and within hours the lieutenant’s injuries had improved, and within days she fully recovered._

She survived.

_This was not a singular occurrence during the games when a participant was not immediately mortally wounded. Many of the members of Children of the Son had acted in this way, imitating their leader, laying on hands and praying, and some of the participants had recovered from their wounds._

No. I don’t accept that. It’s not possible. What could it mean? What  _really_ happened?

I jerked my head toward the bed and jumped up when I heard Spock’s loud moan. Being in a medically induced coma, there should be no moans, as Spock was totally unconscious.

I punched the intercom button. “Bones, Spock just groaned in pain. Should he be able to do that in a coma?”

“McCoy here. Of course not, Jim. I’ll be right there.”

I grabbed a fresh uniform and was just sliding into my gold as Bones charged through the door in less than a minute and started scanning his medical tricorder over Spock’s body. We watched as Spock’s head jerked in spasm, as though still battling unseen demons that threatened him.

“He shouldn’t be able to do _that_ either,” Bones assured me. “I don’t know what to say, Jim. He should be deeply unconscious, unable to make any sound or movement. I’ve never seen any disease break through medication like this.”

I turned away, unable to watch the love of my life suffering again. Then I realized what kind of coward that made me, so I turned back and ran my fingers across his forehead. 

“Jim, did your research turn up anything? We’re running out of time here.”

“ _DON’T YOU THINK I KNOW THAT_?” I shouted at the doctor, not caring that none of this was his fault. Bones had worked tirelessly trying to find a way to treat Spock or ease his pain. I was filled with all this raging anger and feelings of deep loss and I had no idea what to do with them, so I spewed them all over my best friend, who just happened to be the closest target.

“We’ll keep monitoring him and upping his dosage but eventually, even the painkiller will accelerate the breakdown of his organs and prove fatal, perhaps even before the disease itself could have. Just tell me what you want me to do, Jim.”

“Bones, do you believe in God? A God? Any God?”

“Sometimes. I’ve seen things I can’t explain. Why do you ask?”

“I found a report of a Starfleet mission to a planet where there is a large movement of people who _do_ believe. They’re called “Children of the Son.” Not sun in the sky, but supposedly the son of a god. There are Starfleet crew witness statements attesting to the supernatural healing of mortally wounded crewmembers of the USS Potemkin. Afterward, they returned to active duty in their stations.”

“That’s…very interesting. But what of it?” Bones looked puzzled.

“What do you think about it? I mean, we’ve tried…everything and everywhere else in the galaxy. No one has discovered anything about treatments, much less a cure. There's nowhere else to look. Nothing else to try. We’re running out of time, as you said. I want to take Spock to that planet and see if they can heal him.”

“You _what_? That’s outrageous, Jim. You don’t know anything about…”

“I told you I’d do anything to save Spock. Look, he’ll DIE, Bones. And I’m not going to stand by and let that happen without trying _everything_ , whether I believe in it or not. I’ve…I’ve made up my mind. We’re going.”

“Jim, that’s…that’s insane. Do you even hear yourself? And where _is_ this planet? You don’t even know if you can get there in time. Starfleet will never allow you to pull the Enterprise away from an important mission, especially when we're practically there. You’ll lose your command if you just ignore orders and pull a stunt like this. It’s like you’d be...hijacking the Enterprise.”

“I can’t let Spock die, can I, Bones, without trying everything? If we don’t go to Planet 4, we’ve sealed his fate. It's as though I killed him myself."

Bones, his eyes wide in disbelief, kept shaking his head no, as I kept trying to convince him—or maybe I was really trying to convince myself. “I owe him my life a dozen times over. Isn’t that worth a career? He’s my bondmate, my husband. We're talking about his  _life_.”

I punched the com button again. “Bridge. Navigation. Lay in a course for Star System 892, Planet 4. Warp factor 9 or more. Punch it all the way to critical mass, Mr. Sulu, and give me your best time to destination.”

Sulu replied, "Captain, we are within close range of Norellus. Would you like me to...."

"We're no longer stopping at Norellus," I cut him off. "Have Nyota contact them and tell them we'll be delayed till further notice."

“Captain! Scott here.” As I could have predicted, Scotty was riled up within seconds of hearing my orders. “Sir, I’m not sure how long my engines will hold up at that rate before they buckle. And even at warp 9, it’s a full seven hours to Planet 4. We could end up dead in space any time after five at that speed.”

“Understood, Scotty. I’m trusting you to get us there. Baby those engines and do whatever you have to. Spock’s life depends on it. I’m giving you carte blanche, Mr. Scott. I’ll back up anything you need to do, just get us there. I take full responsibility. Kirk out.”

“Well, we’re on our way, Bones. Can you keep Spock knocked out and alive till we get there?” I shook my head at the desperation behind this ridiculous course change I had just committed my ship and crew to. I could hardly believe it myself that I just assigned the full faith and credit of my captaincy behind something I didn’t even believe in. “Use whatever means you have for at least the next seven hours. Use a Cryo tube like you did with me if that's what you need. Whatever it takes.”

“Jim, you’re putting a lot of faith in…faith.”

“I don't have _any_ faith in this, Bones. But as long as there’s one chance in infinity this might save my husband's life, I’m taking it, even if I go to prison. I don't care what they do to me. Stay here with Spock. I'm assigning you full time to his care. I’m going to the bridge.

"Oh, and I need you to recertify me fit for command after the 'emotionally compromised' declaration.”

“Aye…aye, Captain.” Bones sighed and shook his head, but I registered his answer as I walked out the door.


	6. I love thee freely, as men strive for right

“Approaching Planet 4 now, Captain.”  
  
Chekov updated our status, as Planet 4 of Star System 892 loomed ahead. Thanks to Scotty’s genius with the engines, we had arrived in mostly one piece, only having to dead stop at hour 5.4 to cool down our core and reboot some systems, plus replace a few non-critical components that gave up the ghost. But our chief engineer had us back in business and on our way to Planet 4 again within 45 standard minutes, nothing short of a miracle in itself.

Of course, I still resented every second of that stop, as with every heartbeat I was that much closer to losing Spock forever. We were in a race against the chronometer, as my husband sank deeper and deeper down the Verilinia death spiral, as Vulcan healers called it.

I had been much too fidgety to remain in my chair on the bridge. I couldn’t seem to stop myself pacing around, peering over everyone’s shoulder at their duty stations, just trying to redirect my worry and nervous energy. After the fifth time I had gone back down to Spock’s quarters to check on him, McCoy banned me for the remainder of the trip.

“Jim, remember that old Earth saying, ‘You'd make coffee nervous’? Well my friend, I advise you to take your jitters and visit the officers’ mess or the gym and work out or, hell, _anywhere_ but here or driving everyone on the bridge crazy. I’ve already promised you I’ll let you know immediately if there is any change in Spock’s condition. I’m monitoring his medication and vitals constantly, and I’ve pretty much worked out a good balance to keep him settled peacefully. Now go, let your people do their jobs without your annoying interference.”

“Really, Bones? Who complained to you?”

“The better question is—who didn’t? There’s talk of mutiny up there if you don’t settle down and stay out of their way. They’re all concerned about Spock, too. They miss him on the bridge, especially his calming influence on _you_. They’re trying to give you their best, but you’re pestering your people worse than a Georgia gnat on a sweltering July afternoon. Let ‘em do their jobs—they're busy keeping _your_ stolen starship from flying apart at the seams on this wild goose chase of yours.”  
  
So I switched to jogging and roaming the corridors to work off the jumpiness, while busying my mind with some partial differential equations and reprogramming for five new scenarios for the Kobayashi Maru test. Yeah, I could solve them, but I bet the new kids couldn't.  
  
In general, I just tried to think about anything and everything except how deeply I loved Spock and how I might soon never see him again. I couldn’t bear to imagine my remaining days without Spock as the center of every one of them. Of all the calculations I’d ever attempt, that was the one that would forever remain unsolvable. 

When we were about 20 Earth standard minutes away from Planet 4 orbit, I returned to my chair both mentally and emotionally exhausted, armed with a mug of our replicators' strongest coffee. Since the Children of the Son were still functioning at the level of Earth mid-twentieth century technology, I was unable to comm ahead to make arrangements for them to meet with us and work their magic.

Were I not so desperate to save my husband, I’m sure I’d be sneering at the very thought of the existence of a supreme being that cared to heal any single individual out of billions and billions of lives. But I would make a deal with the devil himself, whom I also didn’t believe in, if it would keep Spock alive. An eerie bitterness grew in my gut, my mind revolting against all of this. I felt just like the hypocrite I was.

I resented feeling pushed against the wall by my own desperation to even come here, our very presence an ipso facto validation of their ancient, mythical practices. I didn’t know what voodoo mind games they played with injured beings, but I was sure that those wounded crewmembers in the reports would have survived anyway. Or maybe the cult members knew how to unlock some secret brain power so that each person healed himself. I'd be plenty happy with that, too.

Whatever the truth turned out to be, I had committed my ship to this personal mission and would be subjecting my very logical Vulcan husband to hokey, archaic rituals which most likely would make fools of us all, in the final attempt to leave no stone unturned to save the love of my life. I kept trying to justify it to myself as preferring to be a fool with a living husband over a rational man with a buried one.

“Standard orbit, Mr. Chekov,” I ordered.

“Standard orbit, Captain.”

I didn’t remain on the bridge long enough to watch our insertion around the planet. I turned the conn over to Mr. Scott who had come to the bridge as we approached Planet 4.

“I owe you big time, Scotty. Thanks for getting us here.” I squeezed his shoulder and smiled.

“Good luck down there, Jim. To both you and Spock.”

As I rushed to the lift, I commed McCoy that I was ready for him to bring Spock to the transporter room, as the three of us would be beaming down to Pathos immediately, the city where the arenas reportedly still stood and which was now considered the center of the Children of the Son movement. Bones met me a moment later having secured Spock in a wheelchair; still looking deathly pale, still in the controlled coma. I bent down and kissed the top of his head. “I love you, Spock. We’re going to try to get you some help, Baby. Ready, Bones?” Turning to the technician, I called out, “Energize.”

When we materialized on a sidewalk somewhere near the center of town, we were promptly surrounded by a crowd of gawkers, some dressed in long robes and sandals and others dressed in very simple clothes, all fashioned in dull colors. One older man with short blond hair, dressed in one of those long robes, was brave enough to approach us first.

“Welcome to Pathos. I am Fabius the historian. Who might you be? And what sort of trickery is this?”

“I am Captain Kirk of the…the ship Enterprise, and this is Dr. McCoy, our chief medical officer. The man in the wheelchair is my first officer, Mr. Spock. I assure you there's no magic involved. We have special machines that move us from place to place as you saw. We are here to talk with any leader of the ‘Children of the Son’ movement.”

“Ah. I am a member, Captain, and all members are considered leaders. Did you wish to harm us?” The native appeared merely curious but in no way frightened.

“No, our mission is one of peace and urgency. I am here because Mr. Spock is gravely ill, close to death. His disease is not contagious, so please don’t worry. Your people are safe from us.

“I have it on good authority that there used to be some members of the Children of the Son who could heal others. I’ve read eyewitness accounts regarding some healings that took place here a few years ago.”

“No mortal heals, Captain. It is the Father. We are merely his conduit.”

I really didn’t have time to debate the finer points of what were most likely nothing more than parlor tricks at best and cruel hoaxes at worst. “I just need to get my friend to a healer. Is there anyone around here who could meet with us right now? Someone close by I can contact?”

“Of course, Captain Kirk. Any of us can pray over your friend. Bring him. Come along.” I was skeptical that just any member off the street could perform the complex and momentous procedure I presumed healing must require. I expected to be taken to someone or some group that was specifically designated for this one purpose. The robed man pointed to a doorway in a nearby building as he motioned for others to join us. He led the way into a small room with a cot. When inside, I lifted Spock up into my arms, waiting for instructions. My husband’s body was wasting away, dangerously gaunt and thin, and I easily held him close to my heart.

“Place him here, Captain,” the robed man pointed to the cot. “And please feel free to join us if you wish.”

“No, I...I’ll just watch," I replied, gently laying Spock down there. "Please hurry and begin the process.”

“I’ll join you,” Bones stepped up. “I want to monitor Spock’s vital functions as you…do what it is you do.”

“I am pleased to have you with us, Doctor. Gentlemen, this is an act of love and grace. Of tender mercies. Your friend’s life is already in the hands of a loving God. I am but his vessel as are you both, as are all of us. We merely ask the Father to heal this man who is already his beloved child. We simply are in agreement with God’s desire for his body to be free and whole again, and we invite his angels to destroy the power this disease has over Mr. Spock. We pray for a shield of protection around him preventing any further aggression by the illness.”

“Please, I beg you! Stop talking and just begin! He’s out of time—he’s almost gone!” I was growing frantic at all this unnecessary chatter.

“Oh, my son. You don’t understand. We already have begun, Captain. I was only explaining what we are doing, as we do it. We began praying for healing as soon as we saw your hurting friend outside, before you ever asked. We believe in praying without ceasing.” I just gaped at him, puzzled by the simplicity of what I was watching. I had anticipated something dramatic, loud. Something flashy—like maybe their eyes squeezed tight and heads down and loud wailing. Maybe lightning flashes and rumbling thunder, since it was probably all for show anyway.

I decided to shut up, cynically expecting the dog-and-pony show part to begin any moment.

Both men and women gathered around Spock, murmuring quietly in some language I did not recognize, nor could the universal translator convert. As they spoke softly, they began touching their hands lightly to Spock—on his shoulders, arms and feet. Those who could not reach him pressed their hands on the shoulders of the person between them and Spock, so that all the people praying were connected to him in some way. McCoy stood back from Spock’s side, his scanner silently recording its constant readings.

Another robed man, this one with long, dark hair, moved to stand at Spock’s head. He held a bottle of what appeared to be some kind of oil, into which he dipped his finger and then drew a cross marking in oil on Spock’s forehead, while praying quietly. I considered how illogical and ludicrous Spock would think this ceremony and these actions if he were aware, as I was sure he wouldn't condone being touched that way, especially so close to his psi points. Then I reminded myself, he was only being subjected to these touches because I insisted on bringing him here. Spock would have only me to blame.

I shook my head at the realization that for a few seconds, I actually allowed myself to entertain the fancy that this could work and Spock might again speak to me. I’d be thrilled for Spock to mock my actions all he wanted, if he would just survive to do so. And I’d kiss his lips apologetically after each scornful word.

The man with the oil now held his hands up toward the ceiling, eyes closed, speaking his prayer slightly louder than the others, again in that language I couldn’t interpret. The others shook their heads in agreement, some with tears in their eyes. Real tears? Was that possible? They didn’t even know Spock—how could they genuinely weep for him? As they prayed, they looked down at Spock and they looked up to the ceiling as though they could see beyond it to the sky. A woman then took over the lead, her voice obviously pleading to her unseen deity.

Instead of crying out in some strained concentration, what I observed in her face was joy, serenity…peace. Her eyes danced as though they held a beautiful secret. I had expected to see some wild madness or voodoo thing, like Bones would say about Vulcan mind melds. And at that memory, my heart clenched as it had been days since Spock opened up our bond and shared his thoughts and emotions with me. I missed him almost unbearably.

The man at Spock’s head then looked back down from the ceiling, and I startled slightly to realize he now looked into my eyes from where he stood. Without warning, I felt some kind of power jolt through my entire body, as everything in the room suddenly became foggy and started fading away—even the people praying around Spock, and then Bones and Spock themselves. I couldn't understand it. A ray of some kind of gentle light seemingly emanating from above the ceiling now enveloped the man. I could still hear the muffled voices of the others praying, but they were now whispers in the far distance.

As I returned his gaze, I was aware I had never seen such kindness and concern on anyone’s face in my life. I’d encountered a lot of strange things in our travels around the galaxy, but this was far beyond anything I had ever experienced. The light in his eyes mesmerized me and I could not look away. I didn’t want to look away. I wanted to drown in the love and acceptance I saw there.

“James, your love for your bondmate is powerful and pure. Spock desires to remain with you as much as you wish to have him back. He cares for you deeply. He is overwhelmed and profoundly grateful that your love is so strong you are willing to lose everything just to bring him here. Never forget his abundant regard for you, no matter what happens today.”

“What? Wait, how do you know my name?”

 


	7. and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

I might not have paid attention to everything I'd said since we got here, but I was absolutely certain I hadn’t mentioned anything about my relationship with Spock.

“How do you know he’s my bondmate? And…and how dare you presume to know what Spock’s thinking! He’s in a coma, he’s not thinking anything.” Was this the beginning of the mind tricks I had expected?

“James, the Father heard you cry out to him in your quarters. You had fallen to your knees and sobbed pleading, ‘No, please God, no,’ when Leonard told you there was no hope for Spock’s survival. It was mindless, unaware, but you did finally cry out to the one who could truly save Spock.

“The Father knows everything about you, James. Your father’s sacrifice on the Kelvin. He was with George at the instant of his death.

“God knows of your birth those very same moments and your mother’s broken heart at your father’s loss. He knows every moment of every day of your life—all those events that strengthened your character and ignited your compassion and deep concern for the welfare of others. Your undying commitment to the protection of your crew, to the point of sacrificing your own life without hesitation.  Much like what you have done today, turning your back on your orders and bringing Spock here, even though you do not believe.

“James, there is so much love and good in you. The children you protected on Tarsus IV who would have died had you not been there, now create their own legacy because you fought undaunted to keep them alive while others turned their backs, concerned more with their own self-preservation.”

I stared at him, incredulous. I’d observed mindreading ploys before at magic exhibitions, and of course, we had encountered species who communicated by telepathy. Still, this man didn’t probe, didn’t ask any trick questions. I revealed nothing. Yet he knew…everything.

I _was_ certainly aware that a lot he stated was public record, so it would take little work to prepare a mind fuck.

Except…he hadn’t known I was on my way and would be there today. I hadn't even known that myself until a little over seven hours ago. And there was no way he could know what was said in my quarters when I was crying with Bones.

“I realize, my son, it’s practically impossible for you to believe," he continued.

“James, the Father knows of those years of your youth that were often a horrible struggle because of others’ abuses. And yet, with each challenge, you met and valiantly overcame all of it with dignity and strength. Each victory conditioned and sculpted you to become the brilliant, focused man, the strong, dependable, respected leader who then saved untold numbers of lives—lives that would have been lost otherwise. You—the man who refuses to accept the no-win scenario, not even when it comes to your husband’s health.

“It was your ingenious tactical skills that pieced together the various bits of information others dismissed as random, and you alone in turn determined the other seven starships were being ambushed by Nero. It was you alone, fighting your way onto the Enterprise bridge with this evidence, who were responsible for every life that was saved on the Enterprise that day. And it was in that moment Commander Spock began the long journey to realization you are his t'hy'la. Because of the courage and brilliance he saw in you and your kindness and acceptance of him as both Vulcan and Human day after day working together, Spock fell in love with you.

“James, I know you have never believed that for everything, there is a purpose, or that you have been called to greatness. Even Captain Pike…”

“Stop there," I demanded. "You _knew_ Captain Pike?” Waves of gooseflesh spread across my body.

“James, I _know_ Captain Pike. He was called to love you like the father you lost, to help you understand the greatness that is within you.

“Where lesser men would have been crushed and destroyed by the hardships and cruelties of your life, you rose indomitable.

“From the beginning of your life, James, you were the one appointed to save those children on Tarsus IV. And to save all those civilizations from Nero.

“George Kirk’s sacrificial death for his crew, for your mother, for you, was the spark that created your life’s path of service to others. George saved hundreds of lives. Because of his sacrifice, _you_ lived to save uncountable trillions—not just the ones living then, but their children and their children’s children in perpetuity.

“James, all things work for good to those who are called according to the Father’s purpose.

“You were called according to his purpose, my son. And you never hesitated, you never quit.”

I was weeping, broken again, completely enthralled by his words. Nothing else was real—just this powerful, gentle man in the robe, who saw through me. Telling me about my life.

“To everything there is a season," he continued, "and a time to every purpose under the heaven—the very heaven that has always called you to live and explore among the stars.

“You have always been exactly where you were supposed to be, James. All because you were bold enough to accept Captain Pike’s challenge. You took your first step toward the stars and your ultimate calling that day in Iowa.

“From your birth, you were chosen for this—this greater purpose.

“Well done, good and faithful servant. Each one of those lives will be grateful to you for eternity." He paused again and closed his eyes, quietly speaking words I couldn’t understand.

I had never felt so…strange. Lost. Found. Currents of energy flowed through me. Love…acceptance…even self-acceptance—flowed through me.

I had always believed that even if there was a God, he hated me and had spent my entire life punishing me and playing cruel tricks on me.

And now, here was this stranger—this gentle, kind, compassionate stranger—telling me I had misunderstood everything. Misjudged everything.

“James,” the man looked back into my eyes, “you have convinced yourself you have no faith, but the exact opposite is true. It took tremendous faith to commit your ship and crew and travel lightyears to bring Spock to us. And your crew had complete faith in you to support your commitment without question. On this day when you knew your beloved husband was mere breaths away from death, you moved heaven and earth.

“ _That_ , my son, is the very definition of faith. To take action in the face of everything your logical mind tells you is impossible."

He closed his eyes once more and lifted his hands, saying, “James, I must ask you now. Can you accept it and find peace if Spock is not healed?” He dropped his arms and looked back into my eyes.

“Wh…what?” I spoke quietly, barely able to form words. “I thought…I thought maybe with all you've just told me, you were going to heal him.

“Please. I don’t know how to accept it. I love him with everything I am. Spock… _he’s_ the brilliant one. The strong one. He’s the best part of me. He deserves to live. No, please don’t make me accept it. I can’t.” I shook my head violently.

“Sir,” I looked straight into his kind eyes and pleaded, “take me. Let Spock live, and if someone has to die…take me in his place. I offer myself willingly for anything you need me to do, anywhere you need me to go. Just please...Sir. Save Spock. He’s the best person I’ve ever known. Save him...please.”

“James.” The compassion in the man’s eyes reached down deep into my very soul as he absolutely glowed with the most glorious smile I’d ever seen. His eyes sparkled with energy. “By your entreaty, you now understand the Father’s heart for his children, that he sends his own beloved son so that others might live.

“The Father offered me as you have repeatedly offered yourself for others. You understand pure love. I have willingly gone to every people throughout the universe where the Father has sent me. James, your heart is God’s heart.” The man seemed filled with a piercing, internal light, and I realized he was weeping as I now also did.

“James Kirk, your faith has made you whole. I can now reveal this final truth to you. 

“All of this," he spread his fingers and waved his hand around the room, "has never been about Spock’s healing.

"James, all of this has been about _your_ healing, your life journey, your anguish. The Father knew you would never come to him of your own accord, but he knew you would move the universe to bring the man you love. All that has passed, is finished, James Kirk. Be blessed as your journey now continues. And remember, I am with you always."

I could never describe how I felt inside at that moment, as all at once all the anger and fear and doubt that had gripped my heart for years just loosened and melted away. I completely lost it and began sobbing loudly, uncontrollably. I dropped my face into my hands.

“Jim. Jim! Why are you crying? Are you injured? Where are we?”

I was losing my mind. I could swear I heard Spock’s voice as I felt strong arms wrap tightly around me.

I lifted my face and saw Spock standing there, looking down at me with such love and concern. He looked around at the others surrounding the cot where he had been lying, and then he looked back at me, with the most beautiful puzzled eyes. His face was radiant, glowing with verdancy and health. The strain that had lined his face with pain for days was totally gone, as was the fog that had filled the room. I could now clearly see and hear the people right in front of me, weeping and laughing and embracing each other.

“Doctor McCoy,” Spock looked toward Bones, raising his voice enough to be heard above the celebratory voices around him. “Has Jim been hurt? What is happening?”

“Spock, hold on, I’m recalibrating my tricorder. Your readings are off the chart.” Bones was grinning ear to ear, shaking his head in disbelief, running his scanner up and down Spock’s body. “What in blue blazes? I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t see it. All your vitals are normal. Every sign of Verilinia is just…completely gone.”

“Doctor, what are you talking about?” Spock stared at Bones as though he believed the doctor was in the midst of a mental episode. “I have never had Verilinia. What would make you believe I had?” Bones just kept checking and rechecking his readouts.

Spock returned his attention to me, as we were surrounded by joyous clamor. I was staring at him, unable to speak, my words choking in my throat. I reached up and kissed his cheek, soaking his face with my tears, as I hugged my arms tightly around him. I buried my face in his neck and continued crying my eyes out. Spock’s arms were warm and soothing, calming me.

“Captain Kirk,” Fabius called, moving behind me, placing his hand on my shoulder and squeezing. I turned to him, finally finding my voice.

“Thank you, Fabius!  How can I ever thank you enough? What can I pay you?”

“Oh, Captain. Your joy and Spock’s healing are more than enough thanks and payment for us. We have once again beheld the Father’s loving hand.”

“Fabius, the man with the long hair who talked to me. What was his name?” I asked, looking around. “I don't see him now. Where did he go? Could you get him? I want Spock to meet him.”

“What man, Captain?”

“You know, the man with the long dark hair who came in after the rest of you started praying. He stood at Spock’s head and put oil on Spock’s face. And then he talked to me for a long time. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced. I want to thank him personally. Where is he?”

“Captain,” Fabius looked at me patiently. “I’m sorry, but I did not see anyone standing at your husband’s head.”

“Fabius, that's crazy. You couldn’t have missed him—he prayed out loud and talked to me. He was standing right there.” I pointed to the area behind the cot, behind where Spock’s head had lain.

Fabius started shaking his head and smiling. “Oh. Now I understand. He only revealed himself to you—I just never saw him. Captain Kirk, you have now experienced your own personal encounter with the son. You are a blessed man.” He clapped my back and returned to celebrating Spock's healing with the others.

 “Ashayam, are you alright? The color has left your face.” Spock took both of my hands in his. I was instantly filled with light and energy as our bond sparkled between us. I began smiling and laughing and shaking with joy.

“I’m alright, Spock. I feel you! I hear you. You’re in my mind again!”

“Of course I am, Jim. I am always present with you. That is how our bond works. You know this. I am, however, receiving many jumbled emotions from you, some I have never before felt present in your mind. I find myself unable to process through them easily.”  
  
“I know, Baby, I know. I’ll help you sort through it all when we get back to the ship. But how do _you_ feel? You don’t seem to be in pain any more. Is it really all gone?”

“I assure you, Jim, I am in no pain. I feel…fine. Hungry. Inexorably hungry.”

I laughed loudly to think my husband was now well enough to want food. He had been surviving on injections so long now I didn’t even consider how food would be his first need.

“Bones, come over here,” I called as I motioned for him. “You say Spock’s readings are normal now?”

“I definitely shouldn't say normal. He's good as new. Actually, _better_ than new. I can’t explain it any more than you can. But Spock is now completely free of all disease. You did it, Kid. You were right. It worked.”

“I was wrong, Bones, but it still worked in spite of me.”

“What worked, Jim? What are you both talking about?” Spock cocked his head to the side, as I finally realized through our bond that he had absolutely no memory at all of his intense suffering these past few weeks and all he had been through.  
  
“I’ll have some rather extensive reports to write when we get back to the ship, before my court martial," I teased. "This time, I’ll let you check their accuracy for me and that way you’ll learn about everything that's happened.”

“Court martial? What court martial, Jim? And since when would you need me to double check your reports? They are always impeccable. I do not understand any of this.”

“Yep, you are definitely back to normal,” I chuckled.

Turning back to Fabius, I grasped his shoulder. “Are you sure there is nothing we can do to further express our thanks or repay you?"

“No, Captain Kirk. Go in peace. Never forget what has happened here. And remember, you are always welcome to return and visit with us. We wish you and Spock a long and fulfilling life together.”

“Thank you. And thanks to everyone,” I called out to the others and smiled, waving. “We will never be the same for having met you.”

I pulled Bones close and hugged him, as I kept one trembling arm wrapped around Spock. “Well, gentlemen, are you ready to head home?”

“Absolutely, Jim. After all this, I need a drink..maybe three,” Bones kidded. Spock cocked an eyebrow while I pulled out my communicator and looked up at my handsome, very much alive husband. “Kirk to Enterprise. Three to beam up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References to Ecclesiastes, Matthew, Romans, Revelation
> 
> "and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death."  
> The death in the chapter title refers, finally, not to Spock's but rather to Jim's death in sacrifice for his crew, after which both men loved each other...better.


End file.
